


Or, What You Will

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: All-American Rejects
Genre: Community:2lineschallenge, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-11
Updated: 2007-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta by laurelcrowned & decor_noctis, research help from forevernew & shanalle.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Or, What You Will

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by laurelcrowned &amp; decor_noctis, research help from forevernew &amp; shanalle.

_There is a theory that states that the gods – or, if you prefer, God and some of His closest friends – like to play chess. This could naturally be a perfectly reasonable pastime for any deity, stimulate the mind and keep it active after all that creation is over, but for the fact that due to a shortage of building materials in the wake of said creation, they use people for the pieces. Subsequently, our lives are played out on some cosmic chess board, ruled by the whim of archangels trying not to win too much in case they incur God's wrath and get sent to the various and sundry hellfire pits they were threatened with if they didn't eat whatever the angel equivalent of their greens is._

_There is, of course, another theory that states that the first theory is a load of old codswallop._

_If the first set of theorists are right, somewhere an angel is spluttering, "But – but you **can't** move that piece there, it -" while another angel merely smiles ineffably._

_Of course, if the second set of theorists are right, what happened next had nothing whatsoever to do with chess._

* * *

Nick had endured some bad dates in his time. The majority of his college years had sometimes felt like one very long, very bad date, with brief bursts of half-decent boyfriends interspersed here and there.

Shaun had been one such boyfriend. So when Nick had almost literally bumped into him in a bar downtown, and Shaun had asked him if he'd like to meet up for a drink on Saturday night, Nick thought he'd maybe be in for a night of rekindling the old flame, possibly ending with reunion sex and maybe a dinner date. It had been a while, to put it mildly, since he had been out on any kind of a date or had sex that wasn't with his own right hand, so he was a little eager for the re-igniting.

It was, as it turned out, a complete waste of a perfectly good Saturday night. The Shaun whom Nick had dated in college was a funny, engaging, smart kind of a guy. The Shaun he had met in the bar had seemed a little off, but Nick had figured it was just the strangeness of suddenly seeing each other again, or a perception created by the loud music and the close atmosphere, or perhaps a bit of both.

The Shaun who turned up on Saturday night was still smart, but the funny and engaging parts seemed to have fallen by the wayside. His hair was short, he talked seriously about politics and the _real estate market_, and then he mentioned that he had a wife and Nick decided to leave. They had hugged after he'd made his excuses, and it was weird. A little because Shaun was, in a way, hotter than ever, but Nick was less attracted to him _personally_.

The apartment was empty when he got home; Robyn was spending the night at Toad's. Nick heated a pizza pocket in the microwave and changed channels until he found a horror movie marathon, trying to ignore the pervasive thought _If I don't get laid really fucking soon, I am going to punch something_. He chalked this up to another near-miss in a long line of near-misses, though this opportunity had at least got to the drinks stage before belly flopping, and ripped the pizza apart with his teeth.

He ended up falling asleep on the couch at three in the morning, reluctant to go to bed because he'd only jerk off, and lately that was starting to depress him. At least, he thought sleepily, he hadn't got to the picking random strangers up stage yet; though he could take Shaun as a warning sign, since he'd changed so much he may as _well_ have been a stranger.

He woke up on Sunday morning, shivering and still on the couch. Then he remembered that the next day was Monday, and that it would hold a staff meeting he had an ominous feeling about. So he stumbled into his bed and buried himself under the covers as though, if he snuggled down far enough, he could shut out the world and either Monday wouldn't come, or he would somehow magically not feel like yanking chunks out of the wall just for something to do that wasn't entirely depressing.

* * *

Kim was running a bath when the phone rang. She wedged it between her shoulder and ear, adding another few clusters of salts to the water. "Hello?"

"Oh hi, good, you're in. Listen, are you free tonight?" Robyn's voice sounded harangued.

"I was just about to take a bath, but yeah." Kim waited.

Robyn sighed. "Can I come over? I mean, if you want time with Brit, that's cool, it's just –"

"It's okay, she's at work. Nick still being a total bitch?" She turned the tap off.

"_Total_ bitch," Robyn confirmed.

"Of course you can come over, sweetie." Kim dropped her robe. "How about in an hour?"

"You are a _lifesaver_, thank you so much," Robyn sighed.

"Please," Kim waved her hand as if Robyn could see it. "Like I'd pass up hanging out. Bring some wine, I have ice cream."

"Oh God, I love you so much. I'll see you in an hour, okay?"

"See you then." She put the phone back in its holder and petted the cat's head as she passed. She firmly closed the door (that cat had a habit of getting it open and trying to take a bath _with_ you, and Tyson may not mind it but she definitely did) and sank into the hot, bubbly water.

Her hair was almost dry when the doorbell rang and Robyn held aloft three bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. "They're Nick's, but he offered. I think he felt bad about the fight today."

"What was it about?" Kim led her into the kitchen, to put two of the bottles in the rack and find a corkscrew for the third.

"Well, it _started_ about the staff meeting tomorrow, I think he's worried what the principal might say about some of the new things the school's implementing," Robyn said, fast, her Oklahoma accent thicker than ever. She really must be upset, Kim thought, opening the wine. "But then I don't even _know_ what happened, but we ended up fighting about _wet towels_. I mean," her eyes opened wide and bewildered, "you'd think having your gay boyfriend for a roomie would be _fun_."

Kim rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she said, "it's not all the time."

"I know, right? Nick's normally fine, he just. He seriously fucking needs to get laid." Robyn let out an exasperated sigh, gratefully taking the glass of wine Kim offered her. "I don't care, goddammit, he needs some _serious ass for his dick_."

"Jesus, it really _is_ bad." Robyn almost never talked about sex without euphemisms and vague hand gestures. She still blushed sometimes.

"Kim, he hasn't had sex in two years. _Two years_. I should know, he keeps stealing the hot water bottle. I mean, he lets me have it back, y'know, when I need it. But it's practically his teddy bear now."

"Well, you _did_ get a fuzzy bear cover for it," Kim reminded her. She led her gently to the living room, armed with the wine bottle, a large tub of ice cream and two spoons.

"Yes, okay, but that's not the point. He's just – he's so fucking _picky_, you know? And he doesn't do casual sex, he has to have a _boyfriend_ for it, and there's no one we know who's gay and interested." She folded in on herself as she sank onto the couch.

Kim cracked open the ice cream and handed Robyn a spoon. "I have the opposite problem," she sighed.

"Ty still in Arizona on that shoot?" Robyn asked around a mouthful of Ben &amp; Jerry's.

"Yeah. At least it's _quiet_ around here. But oh my _God_ he just _will not stop_ bringing all these boys home. I can hardly move in my own kitchen for barely-legal boythings, I swear. Is it too much to ask, for me to walk around naked in my own home when I've just got up? But _oh no_, Tyson's latest conquest from the night before is in there, making coffee and doe eyes."

Robyn giggled. "Boythings?"

"If you'd met them, you'd know what I mean. There really is no other word for them, Rob, I swear to you." She swallowed a mouthful of wine, savouring the taste. "This is _really_ good, wow."

"Nick's," Robyn repeated. "I mean, this is the guy who's saving up so he can go to France on a wine-tasting tour."

"Ty's got a shoot in France in a few months," Kim said, scooping up a spoonful of ice cream. "He's got this movie here first, though. And I don't think it'll be wines he'll be doing a tasting tour of."

"_Kim_!" Robyn giggled into her wine glass. Then she sobered and said, "He's really doing well now, isn't he?"

Kim looked around at the room, not entirely aware she was doing it. "Yeah," she said, and she was smiling softly.

"You don't mind?" Robyn spoke as if stepping through verbal land mines. "I mean, I'm sure you'll get more parts soon, it's just a lull –"

"It's okay, Rob. And no, I don't mind. I'm proud of my boy," Kim said. "He keeps saying he'll put a word in for me, that every casting director he blows will know my name. And he does blow a lot of them, so there's hope for me yet."

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" Robyn was watching her with sympathetic eyes.

Kim sighed. "You know, guys look at him and they think here's this model I can screw. He needs a guy who'll look at him and say here's Tyson, this man I like."

Robyn tilted her head. "Did he say that?"

"No." Kim dug her spoon into the ice cream again.

"But you think maybe he's looking for someone?" Robyn pressed.

Kim laughed. "To be honest? No. I'm just sick of all his boythings. If he just had a fucking _boyfriend_, maybe he wouldn't be so obnoxious."

Robyn snorted. "I could say the same about Nick. I remember when he was with Mike, he was so happy and mellow. Now he's wound all tight with the new school shit, and sexual frustration." She enunciated every syllable of the last two words. Kim giggled, and then she stopped, and laughed. It sounded sudden, louder than she'd meant it. Robyn jumped.

"Sorry." Kim tried to cover her mouth, but the giggles didn't stop. "Sorry. I just thought – we should totally set Nick and Tyson up."

Robyn laughed too, then. "Have they ever even _met_?"

Kim thought about it, trying to suppress the bubbles of laughter still emerging from her chest. "Um, no, I don't think so. No – remember, Nick was too sick to come to my birthday party last year, and Ty was working the year before that – no, yeah, they haven't met."

"They would drive each other _crazy_," Robyn pointed out. She looked around the room. "Nick's a neat freak. Tyson's – well, he's _Tyson_."

Kim laughed harder. "Oh God, they'd kill each other in a week. We can't do it, it's just too cruel."

There was a pause for a few seconds, as they both tried to get their laughter under control, avoiding each other's eyes. Then Kim looked over at Robyn, and Robyn looked back, and they burst out laughing again. "We _have to_," Robyn gasped.

"They'd hate us!" Kim pointed out. "Tyson _doesn't date_."

"Nick's _really picky_," Robyn agreed. "They'd hate each other so much, oh God, it's too bad. We can't."

They looked at each other and chorused, "But we _must_."

When Kim could breathe again, she said, "Come on, Rob, they've given us so much shit, they've been so _obnoxious_, we have to pay them back."

"Okay." Robyn's voice was muffled; she was holding her hands over her mouth, as if she could contain the laughter in them. They were starting to calm down now, laughs turning to half-swallowed giggles. "Okay, yes, let's do it."

"When is Nick free? Ty gets back tomorrow, and it had better be some time this week, really, I think the movie starts a week on Tuesday."

"Hmm. How about this Thursday? I'm pretty sure Nick's free then."

"Yeah, Ty's free then too," Kim said, stretching out to see the wall chart in the hall where they kept their schedules and whose turn it was to feed the cat. This had become a necessity after two weeks, three fights and one rather annoyed kitten. "Thursday. It's a date."

"We should book it for them – where?" Robyn popped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. She was curled up in the cushions, her hair falling over her eyes, and Kim was reminded of why she had somewhat of a crush on her.

"How about the Thai place that just opened? I went there with Brit last night, it's really nice. Perfect first date place, just enough lighting and some good food."

"Thai's Nick's favourite, that's _perfect_," Robyn beamed. "Do you have the number?"

Kim hunted around on the coffee table, under magazines and books and slips of paper and a few parking tickets. "Aha! Here it is."

Just as she was trying to remember where the phone was, the front door opened and closed and Brittany called out, "I'm home!"

"Honey, do you remember where the phone is?" Kim called back.

"It's … out here, babe," Brittany answered. She appeared in the doorway, holding the phone, her coat half off and the black-and-white hostess uniform beneath perking at them brightly. "Oh hi, Rob."

"Hey Brit." Robyn had curled up even further into the couch and smiled from her nest of cushions. Kim shot Brittany a look that said _She's so cute, Brit_, and Brittany shot one back that said, _She really is. She is also very straight and very dating Kevin._ Kim's eyes answered, _I know, I know_. "We're being evil and sneaky." Robyn sipped her wine again and giggled.

Brittany handed the phone to Kim and returned to taking her coat off. "Oh?" she asked, coming back into the room and accepting the glass Kim pressed into her hand. She sipped. "Oh wow, this is the _good_ shit."

"It's Nick's," Kim and Robyn said in unison. Brittany laughed.

"So what are your evil and sneaky plans?" She settled on the couch, sitting half in Kim's lap, looping one arm around her waist. "I've told you, no taking over the world after ten pm."

Kim giggled. "We're going to set Tyson up with Nick."

Brittany's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "What did they ever do to you?" she asked, a dramatic gasp. Kim and Robyn laughed.

"Brought endless boys home," Kim said.

"Picked fights just because he's a whiney undersexed bitch," Robyn added.

"Stole all the hot water _and_ my bubble bath," Kim pointed out.

"Oh my God, Nick does that too," Robyn exclaimed.

Brittany considered the arguments. "Yeah, you're right. They totally deserve payback for that."

"They're going on a date on Thursday," Kim told her. "That Thai place we went to last night. I was just about to book it."

"You are cruel and unusual, but I like it," Brittany murmured, leaning over to kiss the skin just behind Kim's ear. "I'm going for a shower. I feel unclean after tonight."

"Your boss still being a slimeball, huh?" Kim rubbed circles on her back, gentle touch. Brittany nodded.

"You really need to report him or complain or something," Robyn said, offering her the ice cream tub. Brittany shook her head.

"Rob, I'm his personal assistant. I have no one to complain _to_. And I really need this job. Even if it does mean serving his vacuous guests their test tubes of champagne and _genteel_ lines of coke. That's what he said to me – make them _genteel_, my dear, _genteel_. So you'd want to lick them up with a _spoon_." She rolled her eyes. "I cut them thin, he didn't tell me to change it so I must have done okay. Ugh, Hollywood parties." She shuddered. "Oh, and four of Tyson's boythings were there. Unfortunately, they recognised me. Good in that the boss thinks I'm more well-known than I am, but all but one of them said they'd tried the numbers Tyson gave them and ended up with a pizza place, a laundromat and a phone box in Sacramento. I had to tell them I couldn't remember his number just to get them off my back."

"See, he totally _deserves_ to be set up with a bitchy queen," Kim said, still rubbing soothing gentle circles.

"Nick's not a bitchy queen _all_ the time," Robyn pointed out. "Just, y'know, when he hasn't been laid since the dawn of time."

"Hell, _I_ was a bitchy queen when I hadn't been laid since the dawn of time," Brittany admitted. "But who knows, maybe they'll like each other, maybe they'll have sex, and then Nick will have gotten laid and Tyson will have another notch in that bedpost of his."

Kim laughed. "Remember when we gave him an actual bedpost and a penknife?"

"I don't think he got the hint," Brittany grinned. "Is there any of it left?"

"Bits," Kim nodded. "He's running out of room to carve."

Robyn giggled. "You two," she said, fond. Kim leaned further against Brittany, almost feeling herself glow. "I'd better get home, I guess," Robyn sighed, draining her glass. "Keep the other bottles," she added. "I'm sure Nick won't mind."

"If he does, tell him we're wooing Tyson for him with them," Brittany suggested.

Robyn unfolded herself from the couch. "Thanks for the ice cream, Kim."

"Any time, you know that." Kim leaned over and gave her a one-and-a-half-arm hug. "I'll call and book the restaurant – shall we say nine o'clock?"

"Nine's good. Okay. Time to go home and tell Nick about his date. This should be … interesting."

After the door had closed behind Robyn, Kim turned to Brittany. "You want that shower now?" she murmured, kissing along Brittany's shoulder.

"Mmm, want to scrub my back?" Brittany asked, catching Kim's mouth with her own. They kissed as Kim hummed her acquiescence.

* * *

Nick had started to feel bad for snapping as Robyn was getting ready to go over to Kim's, so he insisted she take three bottles of his favourite Sauvignon, as a peace offering. When she'd gone, he collapsed onto the couch cushions and couldn't decide what DVD he was in the mood for, so he ended up just watching his TiVo'd episodes of American Idol and mentally counting up the ingredients he had left in the kitchen. He felt like baking; Robyn would hopefully be less pissed at him when she got back, and if he started on a batch of muffins soon, they'd be ready for breakfast the next morning so Rob would _have_ to forgive him for picking stupid fights. He'd been doing that a lot lately, so he decided to play around with honey in the recipe for half the batch. He had a feeling it would make the muffins just the right kind of sticky-sweet, and he knew Robyn was a sucker for that sort of texture.

He was whisking vigorously when he heard the front door open. "Rob?" he called, watching the consistency of the batter.

"Yeah," came her voice from the closet. Her head appeared around the kitchen door a few seconds later. "What – Nick, what are you doing?"

"Baking. If I get these in the oven soon we'll have muffins tomorrow morning." He gestured to the bowl in his hands.

"You're in a better mood," Robyn observed.

Nick shifted, eyes dropping back to the batter. He didn't trust the electric whisk with this recipe, not since The Great Blueberry Disaster of '06. "Yeah, uh. Sorry about before, I was just – I don't know."

"Nick," she said, coming into the room and standing in front of him with her hands on her hips, "you've made six batches of cookies in two weeks, and now muffins, and you only bake when you feel guilty. You're being a total _bitch_."

Nick dropped the bowl on the counter. "Right, this is coming from the girl who left _lipstick_ all over my wooden spoons."

"You _asked me to taste things_. I was wearing lipstick. You know what, no, you are _not_ going to turn this into another fight, goddammit. You need to get fucking _laid_, Nickolas Don Wheeler."

Nick blinked. Fights, he was prepared for. Declarations of his deeply unlaid status, which he really didn't need reminding of, he was not. "What the fuck?" he sputtered.

Robyn held a hand up. "No arguments, Nick. I know a guy, he's free on Thursday night. You two could go for Thai, there's this really nice new place. Have some fun. Have some fucking _sex_ for once."

Nick wrinkled his nose. "Are you _seriously_ pimping me out?" he asked, incredulous. "A blind date? Sex with some guy I don't even know? No _thank you_."

Robyn took a deep breath. Nick was starting to get the feeling she was reaching the point at which he should just give up and back down. "Look. Nickolas. There's this guy, a friend of a friend, I've met him. He's really nice. What's the harm in going on one date, just having dinner? You don't _have_ to sleep with him," she added, as though it were an effort to say. "Just eat some Thai food and talk to this guy, okay? Please? For me?"

Nick sighed. "Who is he?" he asked, and quickly added, "That's _not a yes_."

Robyn rolled her eyes. "He's Kim's roommate."

"What – the model?" Nick blinked. "You want to set me up with a _model_?"

"He's not – he's not some dumb Hollywood bimbo, I swear," Robyn sighed, exasperated. "He's really nice, and funny, and kind, and sweet, and kinda goofy."

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're serious about this." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. Just give it a try, okay? Look – oh! Wait there a minute!" She bolted out of the kitchen and Nick heard her doing something in her room, maybe looking for something. There was a few moments' pause, and then, "Aha!" She came back in, holding a magazine out. "There, see, that's Tyson."

Nick looked down at the pages in her hands. It was a double-page spread for an aftershave advertisement, and Robyn was pointing to a man with finely-cut cheekbones and crystal-clear blue eyes. Nick gaped. "You … seriously, you're setting me up with _him_? But I'm – I'm a fucking _high school teacher_, Rob, he's not going to – seriously, Rob, the fuck?"

Robyn made a dismissive hand gesture. "Don't sell yourself short, Nick, you're way hot. And I bet you'll have a lot in common with him."

Nick goggled. He couldn't help it. "Like _what_?"

"Um." Robyn thought for a minute, and at last she said, "Well, you know Kim, right?"

"I … I guess so, yeah," Nick shrugged.

"And Tyson knows me. So there, already, you've got us in common."

Nick just stared at her. "There'll be good Thai food?" he said, at last. Robyn nodded. Nick sighed, "Fine. I'll go on the date. But it had _better_ be good Thai food, okay? It had _better be_."

"You have flour on your nose," was all Robyn said, and she left the room before he opened his mouth to reply.

When Nick woke up the next morning, the sun was shining, the sky was a clear and arching blue over the smog, and it was another beautiful day in Southern California. Nick stretched out in the bed like a starfish and muttered to himself, "I don't need a man, I have me. I have space in my bed, my best friend's my roommate, I love my job. I don't need a man, I have me." The mantra was really starting to get stale by now, and Nick had the feeling that if he didn't stop snapping at Robyn and picking fights, he wouldn't _have_ a best friend for much longer. His eyes wandered over to the magazine, which he'd tossed onto the bedside cabinet. Tyson's clearclear blue eyes smouldered back at him. "You'd never want to have sex with me," Nick told the pages. "You're a fucking model. I teach kids to play guitar." He closed his eyes. "Robyn's delusional."

Tyson just continued to smoulder quietly at him. Nick reached over and closed the magazine. A perky airbrushed blonde smiled at him from the cover, informing him that his hair could look twelve times better in only two weeks. (He'd already tried the article's instructions, and while it was true his hair _did_ look better, it had started going limp after a month and he'd switched back to his favourite conditioner because Antonio had given it to him and it worked _wonders_. Robyn had bought him a year's supply for his last birthday, and since the birthday before she'd given him the appointment with Antonio and a facial, his fantastic hair was really down to her.)

He heard muffled sounds coming from the kitchen and figured she must be up, so he stuck his head round the door and said, "Hey, I'm going for a shower. You need the bathroom?"

Robyn shook her head. She was already dressed, and holding a half-eaten muffin wrapped in a napkin up to her mouth. "Oh God Nick," she said, and it was half a moan. "What did you _put_ in these _muffins_, they are _so good_."

Nick concluded that it officially had been _seriously way too long_ since he'd gotten laid, because her moaning was starting to stir something at the base of his spine. He shifted against the doorframe for a moment and then went over to put his arm around her shoulders. "My secret. And I'm sorry about how I've been lately, really I am. I guess I just need to, I don't know."

"Get laid? Not be such a whiney little bitch all the time?" Robyn suggested, watching him shrewdly.

He glared. "_Relax_ some more," he corrected, but Robyn grinned around her mouthful of muffin.

"That's what I said," she teased. Nick looked at her imploringly, and she relented. "You should come to yoga class tonight. It's really relaxing, and I _know_, okay, I do remember that Mike left you for your yoga teacher, but you – I mean, you're over that now, right?"

"Yeah," Nick answered, and he was. "Yeah, okay. I kinda miss yoga, y'know?"

"Good. Brit'll be there this week, for once she has a night off, so she can tell you about Tyson." When Nick groaned in exasperation, she added, "You _are_ still going on that date, right?"

"I guess," Nick sighed. "Okay. Maybe. Yeah, alright."

Robyn shook her head. "You're _going_. Now go grab a shower or we'll be late."

"Yes, _ma'am_." Nick saluted and headed to the bathroom.

They were, in fact, a few minutes early and when they got to the faculty room Nick handed the box of muffins to Robyn and said, "Go take some to Toad," with a wink. She just grinned and headed over to where Toad was pouring himself some coffee.

Nick dropped into a chair beside John. "Rough weekend?" John asked. Nick shrugged and held out one hand, tipping it this way and that to indicate _eh, so-so_. "I took my nephew to the park," John continued. "Remember how he was obsessed with his GI Joe and wouldn't put it down?" Nick nodded. "Turns out he's moved onto Sindy. He says he likes dressing her up. Richard said they should move out of LA before he starts saying he wants to be a casting agent or something."

Nick laughed. "Does he still want to be a fireman?"

"Yeah, you should see the way his eyes light up when the trucks go past."

"Dude, that's impressive. It's been fireman since he was _two_, right?" John nodded, and Nick continued, "Three consecutive years, for a kid as young as Alden? That's awesome."

"He's got his mom's focus," John grinned, but before either of them could say anything else Jeff sat down on Nick's other side and the principal came in and clapped his hands in the officious way that meant _Settle down and hear me speak_. Nick smiled at Jeff in greeting and sat back, sipping the enormous cup of coffee he and Robyn had stopped at Starbucks for. (The school coffee left a lot to be desired.)

"Good morning, I hope you all had good weekends," Principal Linton began. "Don't forget the meeting this afternoon after last period, I want you _all_ to be there. Now, everybody have a good Monday."

* * *

When Kim finally got home from work that night, the world was still slightly tilted wrongly. Brittany was at yoga and Tyson's suitcases were strewn over his bedroom floor so she figured it must be him in the bathroom. She knocked on the door and called, "How long are you going to be in there?"

"Another ten minutes," Tyson's voice echoed, the sound of water sloshing as an undertone. "And hi, I missed you too."

Kim rolled her eyes. "You know I love you, dumbass," she called, and added, "I'm gonna go feed the cat."

"Okay." Tyson sloshed around in the bath again, and Mr Whiskers (she had _tried_ to call him Napoleon, but Tyson had called him Mr Whiskers all the time when he was a kitten and it had somehow stuck) rubbed against her ankles, so she led him into the kitchen.

When Tyson emerged, drying his hair with a towel that looked new, he reached over for a hug. "How's my girl been?" he asked, kissing her forehead affectionately. Kim managed to smile at him.

"Oh, you know," she evaded. "How was the shoot?"

"It was … Arizona." Tyson shrugged, carelessly. "Kim, promise me you won't ever have sex on a dune in the desert. I'm still washing the sand out."

Kim rolled her eyes. "Didn't you at least put a blanket down?"

"Yes, but sand has magical properties and can find its way through the _thickest_ of blankets," Tyson informed her, grandly. "Besides," he admitted, "Marco was really vigorous."

"Marco? The camera guy you told me was cute?"

Tyson nodded and leaned closer to stage whisper, "The boy is _excellent_ at head," with a wink. Kim just laughed.

"By the way, Ty, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh?" Tyson grabbed a Pop Tart out of the box on the counter and started eating it cold.

The longer she evaded his eyes the better, so she watched Mr Whiskers attacking his food. "Yeah, see – I know this guy, and I think you two would hit it off, and well. He's single, you're single, I thought, why don't you go on a date with him?"

Tyson almost choked on his mouthful. Once he'd managed to swallow without hazard, he started laughing. And laughing. And _laughing_.

"I'm serious," Kim told him, resolutely not letting the corners of her mouth twitch up. She folded her arms. "I've booked a table at that Thai place I told you about, for Thursday night."

"But," Tyson said, laughter stopping abruptly as he saw the look on her face, "but Kim, I don't _date_. I get _laid_."

"You're going on this date," Kim said, her voice firm. She felt obstinate and she didn't care.

"Fuck off, I _don't date_." Tyson shook his head and took another bite of his Pop Tart. Crumbs sprayed a little as he said, "With dating comes all that _relationship_ shit, and I don't do that. You _know_ I don't do that."

"For fuck's sake, Ty, it's _one date_. Just have fucking dinner with this guy, that's all I ask. Just _see_ if you might like him."

Tyson put his Pop Tart down and placed both hands on Kim's shoulders. He looked at her hard, and said, "Is this just because you don't like me screwing around?"

Kim looked back at him for a minute. "Yes. Okay? I just, come on, Ty! It's not even that I don't like you screwing around, I just don't like tripping over the boys in the morning when I am _trying_ to wake up. You know? It's like a home invasion every day of the week." She leaned against the counter, avoiding his eyes again. "What's the harm in it, Ty, just going for dinner? Have some good food, talk to Nick, see if you hit it off."

"Wait, wait, Nick? Robyn's Nick?" Tyson blinked. "You want to set me up with _someone you know_?"

Kim stared at him with one raised eyebrow. "And which part of 'I know a guy' tipped you off to that, hmm?"

"Yeah, but – I mean, this is – I _like_ Robyn. I don't want to sleep with her roommate, Kim, come on. That makes it – no way, dude. I have _boundaries_."

"Your boundaries are fucked up." Kim felt as if she were hearing someone else, though it was her voice. "Tyson, you're twenty-three now. How long are you going to keep screwing every kid in Hollywood? How much longer, seriously, are you going to keep on thinking of sex as not with another _person_? That's why you don't want to go on this date, isn't it? If it's a friend of Robyn's, that makes him a _person_, and you like to forget that so you can toss them aside with no thought to the consequences." She was breathing hard by this point, surprised when she realised her hands had balled into fists and Tyson had taken a step back.

"Woah. _Woah_. Is that really what you think? What the fuck, are you okay?" Tyson was watching her as though she were a tiger held to the wall by a thin chain that was threatening to break. The thought made her want to punch something. So she turned, balled up her fist, and slammed it into the fridge door. The magnets on it rattled.

There was silence for a minute, as she got her breathing back under control. "Sorry. Sorry, I just – sorry." She sagged, and sank to the floor. Tyson looked far too tall from that vantage point, until he came over and sat next to her, pulling her onto his shoulder. She buried her face there and realised it was wet. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, "I got fired today." The words felt like relief, whooshing out of her mouth.

"Fuck, honey, I'm so sorry. What happened?" Tyson smoothed her hair down off her forehead and Kim curled into his side.

"One of the other girls," she sniffed, "stole four hundred dollars from the cash register. She blamed me. So I got fired."

"What the _fuck_?" Tyson exploded. "That is fucking _insane_, no way – come on, we're going back there, there is no _way_ you'd steal that money, they _have_ to believe us –"

Kim put a hand up to silence him. "They do believe me," she sighed, "even though she planted the money in my locker. They _know_ me there, Frank said he knew I'd never steal it. But it's a serious accusation and they had to let me go. They fired the girl who stole it too. Frank said he'd give me a good reference."

Tyson was still quivering with anger. "But – but they _can't_ do that –"

"They can. It's okay, I'll find another job." She didn't add, _Even though it took me for-fucking-ever to find this one, and every wannabe starlet in the city will be needing the same job as me. We're all waitresses in this town_.

"Hey, and this gives you more time for auditions, right? Get your career back on the upswing," Tyson jostled, making the switch from indignation to cajoling, though Kim could tell he was still angry.

A laugh escaped her throat, and it was surprisingly bitter. "I don't even know if I _want_ that career any more."

Tyson looked startled. "Really?"

"I don't," Kim started. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice tight. She could feel more tears prickling at the backs of her eyelids. "I don't think I know _what_ I want. I don't – Ty, I don't know what's got into me tonight. I'm sorry, I – I'm sorry about what I said. I don't think you don't see your boythings as people, I didn't mean it –"

"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay." Tyson rested his cheek on her head and stroked his fingers through her hair. "And for the record, you know I do. I like every one of them. I'm sorry if it bothers you that there's so many, I just –"

"I know. You're having fun." Kim gave him a weak smile.

Tyson shrugged. "They get bored of me. I get bored of them, too, they're only really interested in the sex. But so am I, so it works out okay." He smiled at her, toothily, and she let go an explosive giggle that might have been a sob, were it not for the way he was hugging her.

"Will you go on the date?" she asked, sniffing.

"Will you talk to me about what's wrong?" he countered.

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll go on the date, then. But it won't work out, you know it won't."

Kim laughed again, half-heartedly. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

By the time Thursday night came, Nick had already had a bad week. Monday had been the staff meeting that landed him with twice as much paperwork as usual, though yoga had indeed been relaxing. He and Robyn had hung out with Brittany a little before and after the class, and that part had been fun; but then Brittany had checked her messages and rushed off, saying something had happened to Kim. Robyn had spent that night and Tuesday evening at Kim's, and Toad had come over on Tuesday to wait for Robyn to get back, so in the meanwhile he and Nick had had beer and talked about school and the merits of trashy reality TV. They'd ended up watching a movie and dozing off; Nick had woken up with Toad pressed up against his side, thankfully not too near his boner, and pretended to still be asleep when Robyn came in and woke Toad up by straddling him and licking up the curve of his ear. Nick had gone to bed with earplugs in and jerked off, though the fact that it really wasn't _enough_ and the fact that an image of Tyson's eyes were the last thing he thought of before he came made him curl up afterwards feeling rather empty. Wednesday was Parent-Teacher Night, so Nick had had to talk to Mike and Chris about Chris's nephew, and while he honestly was over Mike by now, it still gave him a little pang to see them holding hands. They had invited him over for dinner if he was free at the weekend, and he'd answered, "Depressingly." Mike had just patted his shoulder and told him to come over on Saturday afternoon for a cook-out.

"This is what it's come to," Nick had moaned to Robyn on the way home. "Pity invitations from old married couples I used to date."

"You never know, things might look up tomorrow night," Robyn had pointed out. Nick had rolled his eyes.

"Right, yeah, the model. Hey, is Kim okay? What happened to her?"

"She got fired, there was this whole big deal. She's okay now, though. Got a job interview on Tuesday."

"Oh. Good." Nick had watched the lights zip past outside the car window.

Now it was Thursday night, and he had showered, exfoliated, deep conditioned his hair, brushed his teeth, and he was trying to decide what to wear. Robyn had already left for a movie date with Toad, so he couldn't even ask her what she thought of the shirts he was considering, and he couldn't exactly call John or Jeff. He really needed more gay friends. Or at least _girl_friends.

Then he thought of Kim, and scrolled through his phonebook until he found her number, and hit 'call'.

"Hi, it's Nick," he said when she picked up. "Hey, I heard about your job, I'm sorry. I hope Tuesday goes alright."

"Thanks," she said. She sounded like she was smiling, so Nick took that as a good sign and plunged on.

"Listen, uh, can I ask you something? Only Robyn's out with Toad, and I can't ask any of my guy friends."

"Okay, fire away." There was reckless overly-jolly laughter in her tone, which gave Nick pause for a moment, but he figured he didn't know her well enough to ask.

"I'm trying to figure out what to wear tonight, and I can't decide between three shirts."

"Okay. What pants are you wearing?" she asked, her tone switching to professional.

"Black suit pants. Is that too much?"

"Hmm, probably. Ty's wearing those new jeans with the hip thing, if you're in suit pants you might feel overdressed."

"Okay. Thanks. How about black jeans, would they be okay?"

"They'd be fine, Nick. And don't be so nervous, Tyson doesn't bite."

Nick heard a faint voice in the background say, "Well, not unless he _asks_," and he swallowed.

"Shh, Brit," Kim called, and Nick let the air out of his cheeks. "She was joking," Kim told him, "if you heard that."

"Yeah, okay. Listen, thanks, I think I know which shirt to wear now. I'll um, I'll talk to you soon. And good luck on Tuesday."

"Thanks. Have fun tonight."

"Yeah." Nick cleared his throat. "Bye then."

After he'd hung up, half of his brain said, _'Bye then'? Could you _sound_ any more awkward, you retard?_ The other half was sneaking another look at Tyson's magazine spread.

"Oh yeah," he muttered to himself, "tonight's going to go _great_."

The restaurant was lovely. The lighting was subdued enough that the place felt intimate, but bright enough that it wasn't too romantic. The whole room reeked of elegance, style, _expense_, and first date tension. Though Nick concluded that that was probably just him.

He was there five minutes early, and shown to the table that had been booked in the name of Ritter. The maitre d' made it very clear by the way he looked down his nose at the bookings list that they had _only_ secured a table because Tyson's name meant something here. Nick tried hard not to feel like that was ominous somehow.

Twenty agonisingly long minutes later, the door opened and every head in the place turned as if drawn by magnets. A tall, almost ethereally beautiful man strode in and up to the front desk to give his name, but the maitre d' already had two menus in his hand and smilingly led Tyson over to the table where Nick was sitting.

Nick watched them approach and had a momentary wild hope that Tyson would be led to another table so they wouldn't have to make _conversation_ because holy shit Tyson was ten times more beautiful without all the makeup and airbrushing and shit, and what the fuck was Nick even _doing here_?

"Hello," Tyson said. His voice was pitched low, at a frequency Nick's brain registered as Seduction. He slid into the seat opposite, and took the menu from the maitre d'. "Thank you, my good man," he said, grandly yet dismissively, and the maitre d' bowed and dropped the other menu on the table before leaving.

Nick picked it up. "Uh. Hi. You must be Tyson, right?"

"Yes. And you are Nick?" It was phrased as a question, but there was no uncertainty in Tyson's voice. His eyes were soft, though. Nick shifted in his seat.

"Yeah. So uh." His mind instantly went blank. "You … got here okay?"

"Fine, yes." Tyson smiled at him, eyes smouldering, and Nick blinked rapidly. This was bizarre.

"Uh." He cleared his throat, licked his lips, and then remembered his water glass. He gulped from it, grateful for something to do so he didn't have to look at Tyson. "Have you … been here before?"

"No, but I'm told the eg muu is the best in all of Los Angeles," Tyson replied, eyes burning Nick's cheeks. He leaned forward and added, voice dropping even lower, "Why don't we get a banquet?"

Nick swallowed, shifted in his seat, and wished he'd worn looser pants. "Alright."

Tyson indicated the menu with a hand. "You pick. I'll eat anything." The last sentence was delivered slowly and deliberately. Nick sort of felt as if parts of his brain were falling off.

"Er. How about," he tried very hard to take in the words on the menu, but Tyson was silently doing that smouldering thing again and he had to mentally shake himself before he could concentrate. "Banquet A looks nice. If, uh, if that's okay."

"It's fine," Tyson said, not even looking at the menu. He was folding his hands artfully under his chin, not taking his eyes from Nick's face. Nick blushed and looked back down.

"Uh, do you – want to order the wine?" he asked, working to keep his voice even.

Tyson was smiling when he looked up, but it was the kind of smile nobody ever directed at Nick. The kind that came with red horns and a forked tail. "Why don't you pick? I hear you know your wines." He made it sound like a euphemism. Nick swallowed again and wondered how he was supposed to eat while Tyson was channelling so much sexual energy into the air around their table.

"Uhm. Okay." He looked back at the menu, flipping to the beverages portion. "Oh, they have a good Chardonnay on here."

Tyson raised one hand and clicked his fingers. Nick tried not to stare; he could hardly believe that anybody actually _did_ that. Nevertheless, a waiter materialised, and Tyson said, his voice a command but not a harsh one, "Two bottles of your finest Chardonnay, and we shall have Banquet A please."

"Certainly, sir." The waiter folded their menus and left with them. Nick wondered what the hell happened now.

"So tell me about yourself," Tyson said, voice warm but low again, eyes still on him.

Nick was struggling to keep track of his own name, so he stalled for time. "What do you want to know?" he asked, hoping his voice didn't sound quite as squeaky to Tyson as it did in his own head.

"Oh," Tyson said, slowly, his mouth curling around the words, "anything. What do you do?"

"I teach music at high school," Nick answered, on surer ground now.

"Do you like it?" Tyson asked, pouring every ounce of his attention into the conversation. It was disconcerting, so Nick fiddled with his napkin.

"Yeah, it's – I really like it. I've been teaching kids to play guitar since I was eleven," he added, risking a look up. Tyson was drinking in every word, and Nick's voice faltered again. "Uh. So I … you're a model, right?"

"And an actor," Tyson nodded.

"Do you, uh. How'd you get started?" Nick gripped onto the table for some kind of support, and hoped Tyson wouldn't notice.

"Oh, you know. I auditioned, eventually the jobs started coming," Tyson waved the subject dismissively away. "Let's talk about you, Nick." He smiled, and Nick suppressed a small sound.

"Uhm." He cleared his throat. "Well, what – sorry, I just, you know how your mind goes blank?" He tried a half-smile. Tyson matched it warmly. "Yeah, uh, I just – um, I gotta go to the bathroom, I'll be back in a minute."

"Alright." Tyson very obviously watched his ass as he stood up and made his way through the tables to the door marked 'Men'.

He looked into the mirror as the tap ran. His face looked hot, though his hair was fine and so was everything else. He did rather have a hunted look around his eyes, he thought as he leaned closer, but aside from that and the flushed cheeks he just looked normal. Nothing special. So Tyson's constant attention was kind of puzzling, and Robyn had said that he _wasn't_ some Hollywood model, that he was – what was it? – nice, funny, kind, sweet, kinda goofy. The man with the smouldering eyes and the seductive tone of voice was not what Nick would call _kinda goofy_. He turned the tap off, sighed, and concluded that Robyn had just said those things to get him onto this date. But now he was _here_, so he may as well eat some good food and _try_ to at least make conversation.

By the time he got back to the table, the drinks had arrived, and so had the starters. "I said the wine was okay. I hope you don't mind," Tyson indicated the bottles as Nick sat down. He sipped from the glass Tyson had filled for him, held it in his mouth for a moment, and swallowed.

"I don't mind," he said, "and it's good."

Tyson gave another of those smiles, took the ribs from his plate and bit into them. He ate them slowly, savouringly, and with a lot of tongue.

Nick half expected smoke to start rising off Tyson's body any second.

By the time they'd cleared the main courses – Nick had the best keang phed kai he had ever tasted, Tyson made small but highly obscene noises over his ped pad khing and used his fingers a lot, licking and sucking them until Nick felt dizzy – the conversation still mostly consisted of Tyson asking questions in a low murmuring voice and Nick struggling to answer around the buzzing behind his ears and the rather pressing evidence that he was not at all indifferent to the very obvious attempt at seduction that was going on.

They were also onto their third bottle of Chardonnay, and Nick was feeling drunker than he should have been. He decided that either he was just really nervous, really horny, and really strung out, or Tyson had slipped some roofies into the wine. His erection was, unfortunately, on the exquisitely pleasant side of unbearable; but it was, rather more fortunately, hidden from view by the table, so he pretended as well as he could that he was just fine, thank you very much, despite the fact that he had spent the past ten minutes describing his favourite Iron Maiden guitar solos using seafood metaphors. "Sorry," he said when he'd reached a breathing point, "I think I'm a little drunk."

"Oh," Tyson said, eyes dancing with amusement, "I don't mind. So am I."

"Right. _Good_. Okay then." Nick surveyed the table, and it took him a moment to realise that it was empty because a waiter had just cleared their plates. "We should have coffee, right?"

"Absolutely," Tyson nodded, and another waiter seemed to appear out of thin air beside them. "Ah, just who I wanted to see," Tyson said to him, voice grand once more. "This elegant gentleman and I would like some coffee."

"And the bill, sir?" the waiter prompted hopefully.

Tyson fished a credit card out of his pocket. "Settle it with this, my good fellow," he said, and the waiter hurried away.

"You're very commanding," Nick noted. He struggled over the word a little, but not too much. "It must be useful."

"I get what I want," Tyson agreed, as the waiter returned with the receipt for him to sign. "Please," he added as Nick fumbled for his wallet, "this is on me." He leaned forward and said, conspiratorially, "That way it's not our girls who set us up; it is me taking you out to dinner."

Nick's head span. "Okay then," he said, because there really wasn't anything else he _could_ say to that. He blew on his coffee until it wasn't burningly hot, and gulped it down.

He didn't feel at all sobered until the cool night air hit them on the way out. "Can I take you home?" Tyson asked, and the words 'demur' and 'coquette' flitted momentarily through Nick's brain.

"Um. You paid for dinner, I should – I should pay for the taxi," Nick protested, weakly.

"If you insist," Tyson acceded gracefully. Nick's head started spinning again.

It took a good hour for the taxi to get to Malibu; the first half of the hour was spent with the same pattern of Tyson asking questions that made everything sound like a sex act, Nick trying to reply while covering his lap, and the air gradually thickening with the sexual tension that had dispelled nicely when they'd left the restaurant.

And then Tyson had leaned over and murmured, "Are you going to keep me in suspense all night or are you going to kiss me?" and Nick had swallowed and tried to make sounds but nothing had come out, so Tyson had smiled and leaned in further and kissed him.

He tasted of ginger and spring onions and coffee and wine, and Nick kissed him back, feeling like his whole head was fizzing, like he was dining out on expensive Thai cuisine all over again just from the taste of Tyson, the way he was kissing him like it was a victory, like it was everything he'd been wanting all night.

Nick paid the fare when they arrived at his place, and when the driver asked if he should wait for Tyson to get back, Nick just opened his mouth and closed it again.

"No, thank you, that won't be necessary," Tyson purred, one hand still on Nick's knee. Nick could hardly breathe.

Tyson got out before him, and as Nick was stepping out of the taxi he leaned over and muttered to the driver, "Wait for him." The driver nodded and left the engine running.

"So this is your place," Tyson said, when they got to the front door. He whistled, low. "Nice."

"It's Robyn's." Nick shifted, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. "She's over at Toad's – uh, Kevin, her boyfriend, we call him Toad because he has this mascot, on his desk, and the kids – anyway, yeah, uh."

Tyson leaned in and kissed him again. He smelled like lemongrass. "You must have a beautiful view," he murmured, and Nick swallowed. It took him a second to realise what Tyson meant; it wasn't what he'd made it sound like.

"It – yeah, it is. Um, anyway, I … I'd better go," he said, trying hard not to stammer.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Tyson moved closer, his limbs lithe and almost breathing the word _flexible_ into the air.

"Uh, no, I've got … I gotta teach the kids what an octave is tomorrow."

"I thought you said you teach _high_ school," Tyson murmured, mouth still close to Nick's.

"It – it's a joke, it. Never mind." Nick's voice trailed off. It was hard to look at anything but Tyson's mouth. "So uh."

Tyson moved suddenly, pushing Nick up against the door, and kissed him hard. Nick's spine and knees turned to water, his brain to mush, and he didn't even fight the whimpers that escaped his throat. Tyson edged a knee between Nick's thighs, and Nick groaned.

"Um," he panted when Tyson leaned back again. "Uh. I – I'd better – so uh, goodnight then."

Tyson blinked. "You're … really not inviting me in?" He sounded as if Nick had just mentioned that the moon had been painted purple.

"Well, no, I gotta – y'know. Uh. Work tomorrow and. But it was fun tonight, it really was. Thanks. For – for dinner and all."

Tyson was still blinking rapidly. "Um. Uh. Okay?"

"The … taxi'll still be there. So. Goodnight, Tyson." He leaned up slightly and kissed Tyson's cheek. "I'll see you again some time, okay?"

He got the door unlocked and closed it softly behind him, hearing Tyson mutter, "What? _What_? That's _it_?" Nick leaned his back against the door for a minute, squeezed his eyes shut, unzipped his pants and silently jerked off. It took three strokes for him to come, suppressing a yelp; he exhaled, and went to look for some tissues.

Robyn bounced up to him in the faculty room the next morning and beamed, "So Kim told me Tyson hadn't come home this morning. I take it the date went well?"

Nick stared. It was too early for this. He had not had enough coffee. "He wasn't with me," he said, abrupt. "He dropped me off at home after dinner, that was that."

Robyn stared back. "You … he just – dropped you off? That was _that_?"

"Rob, you told me he was sweet and nice and kind and goofy. Well, he _wasn't_. He was just this," Nick waved his hands vaguely, "_model_, and he kept asking about me but he never told me _anything_ about himself and he just _listened_ like it was – like he was fucking _acting_ or something. I know I'm desperate, but come on."

"Wow. I – I'm sorry, Nick, I guess I just. He must be … different on a date, I mean, I've only seen him around Kim and they've known each other for years, so I guess – it really went that badly?" She looked crestfallen.

"You are never setting me up with anyone again," Nick told her. "Ever. Okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I just, y'know – you're lonely, I wanted to help." She really did sound upset, so Nick gave her a quick hug.

"Hey, it's not your fault, it – I mean, thanks, I guess, for trying. I'll just – keep looking, I suppose. D'you think that guy at yoga class was cute? The one in the green shirt, I swear he kept looking at me."

Robyn patted his arm. "I think he was there with his wife."

"Oh." Nick sagged against the wall. "Wow, it really must have been a while. I think my gaydar's rusting."

When Nick finished guitar club that afternoon, he stopped by the school office. Melissa handed him a slip of paper and said, "A Mr Tyson Ritter called to say that he had a really good time last night and wants to know if you're free on Tuesday for another date." She looked at him breathlessly. "It _can't_ be the model, right?"

"He's an actor too," Nick said absently, looking at the slip of paper. There was no phone number. "Thanks, Melissa."

"Are you going to call him?" Melissa looked almost fit to burst.

"Maybe," Nick shrugged. From the look on Melissa's face, she was about to expire with jealousy. All Nick wanted to do was get in his car and go home, not talk about models he may or may not call. "Uh, have a good weekend, okay?"

"Bring him to the Christmas party," Melissa called after him. Nick just kept walking.

He switched his cell phone on and it beeped. _1 new text message_, he read. It was from Kim, and it said _Ty said to give you his number_, followed by ten digits. Nick leaned against his car and sighed.

He drove home, _Euphoria_ on the CD player, tapping the steering wheel to the beat. When he got inside, he heard Robyn's giggle coming from the living room, and Toad's voice, so he waved hi to them and escaped to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He held his cell phone between his palms, thinking it over. The date hadn't exactly been _awful_, just really weird. And Tyson hadn't _not_ been nice, just … strange. And really intense. But, a small voice at the back of his head spoke up, he must really have been listening to you. He tracked you down to your _school_. And maybe he _is_ just chasing you down for sex and he'll leave in the morning and break your heart, but for fuck's sake, at least you'd get laid before the nights of sitting in with Rob eating Bailey's Haagen Daas from the tub and declaring all men evil. And the sooner you put out, the less you'll have to be upset about, so call him.

Nick questioned the logic in that last statement, but hit the 'call' button on Tyson's number anyway.

It was picked up within a few rings. "Hello," Tyson said, and his voice was just as seductive over the phone as in real life, albeit tinnier. "Nick?"

"How did – oh. Kim give you my number?" Nick fiddled with his cuffs.

"She did, yes. Did you get my message?" It sounded as if Tyson were stretching out into a lounging position, possibly on something soft, though that could just be Nick's imagination. (He realised he was picturing butterflies flitting around Tyson's head, and maybe some clouds in the background, so yeah, he was imagining things.)

"Yeah, uh. Thanks. So um, I'm free on Tuesday, if you still want to – if you want another date." He tried to stop sounding so nervous, but the more relaxed and languid Tyson's voice sounded, the tighter he felt wound.

"Sounds good. Would you like to go for dinner again? Or perhaps for drinks somewhere?"

Nick grasped at the suggestion as though it were oxygen. "Drinks! Yes, um, there's this bar I've been to a couple times. It's in Malibu, not far from here."

"Oh – listen, Nick, I have to go, but why don't you text me the address and I'll meet you there at, shall we say nine o'clock again?" Tyson's voice had changed, the seductive tones almost entirely dropping out of it. Nick wondered what was happening near him, and what Tyson's apparent habit of using different voices for different people might mean. Besides that he was not a bad actor.

"Okay, great." Nick paused. "Uh, so I'll see you then."

"Yeah. Sorry to have to – I really have to go, okay, I'll see you Tuesday bye." This last was said in a rush, and the line went dead before Nick could say anything.

It was three seconds before Nick let himself think _Oh my gosh that was so cute when his words all ran together_. Then he shook himself and went in search of some alcohol.

* * *

Kim had spent most of that week, after finally convincing Robyn that she was okay now and no, really, it was _fine_ if she went home, dropping resumes everywhere she could think of, calling old employers, and chasing down Frank so he could give her the reference he'd promised. It practically glowed off the page, and she'd given him a hug in thanks. By Thursday she had four interviews lined up for the next week, starting on Tuesday. Tyson's read-throughs for the movie began the day after, so Tyson seemed to be cramming in as much Ty-and-Kim time as possible while they were both between jobs.

At least, that was the only explanation Kim could come up with for the way he was behaving. He'd catch her trying to remember tap steps in the kitchen, or elbow-deep in a cupboard looking for an old sketchbook and her charcoal pencils, or just standing swaying to the song stuck in her head, and he'd rush forward to catch her as if she was falling, and gently coax her onto the couch. They watched endless reruns of Frasier that week, and all of Brittany's Scrubs DVDs that she'd left there. Tyson suggested them with the air of assumption that comedy would be just what Kim needed in such times of unemployment, but she wasn't worried and he just never got the hint.

Not that she didn't want to spend time with him, of course, and she _did_ love Scrubs and Frasier, but sometimes there was something good on Living, and he hadn't watched the classic movies channel in days. This was unusual for a Tyson between jobs. She tried to talk to him about it, but he'd just change the subject and talk about a funny thing he'd seen in an airport this one time, so in the end she gave up and let him be the comforting gay boyfriend, even though she was pretty sure there was nothing to comfort her _about_.

On Friday afternoon, when he finally showed up, he made some toast and declared, "I am _famished_."

"That's what being out all night'll do for you," Kim agreed, almost quivering with excitement. Tyson watched her for a minute, grinning. "_Well_?" she exploded at last. "Tell me about it! How did the date go with Nick? Clearly well, since you're still in yesterday's – wait a second." Kim looked hard at his shirt. "That wasn't what you were wearing last night. Did you … borrow some of his clothes?"

"What? Oh. No, these are some of my things I left over at Brian's. That's where I was last night, he called me to say he'd washed them. I went over to collect, we got talking, I fell asleep. After the sex." Tyson was grinning wider, and Kim just stared at him. "Oh relax, I was kidding about the sex part," he relented after a few moments. He patted her on the arm. "Don't look so shocked."

"And _what about Nick_?" Kim reminded him, pointedly. He put both hands on her wrists, as if to steady her.

"I tried, honey, I really did. I did everything I _could_, but he just. He didn't invite me in, he said goodnight, and I … what was I _supposed_ to do, break the door down and demand he sleep with me? I mean," he continued, starting to pace now, grin entirely gone, "he was hot. Holy fucking _shit_ he was hot. And I did _everything_, you know? All that shit you're supposed to do on dates, all the usual shit that gets me laid. And _nothing_. I mean – not _nothing_ exactly, he was obviously interested, if you know what I mean." Tyson nudged her unsubtly with his elbow. Kim rolled her eyes. "So there was – I don't _get it_. We were making out, everything was fine, and then he said he had to work in the morning and he'd see me sometime. That's _never happened to me before_." He looked completely bewildered.

"Well, he … really does have to work this morning," Kim conceded, thoughtfully. "Maybe he just … really had to sleep?"

"But he was practically ready to go _off_, I could _feel_ it. Literally." Tyson slumped.

Kim shot him a sharp look. "Do you want to see him again?" she asked, careful to keep it sounding casual.

"Yeah," he said without thinking. Kim suppressed an _Aha!_ "But I don't know if he wants to see me, I mean – he did blow me off."

"Call him," she said, reaching over to grab the phone and hand it to him. "Ask him for another date."

Tyson took the phone from her, but then paused. "Shit, he didn't give me his number." He tapped the phone against his chin, and before Kim could open her mouth to say that she had it and could give it to him, Tyson said, "I know! He said he works at a high school, let me …" Kim watched, silent, as Tyson dug out a phone book and started flipping through the pages, muttering things to himself. After five or six minutes of searching, he stopped on one page and dialled a number.

She listened to him leave a message, but no return number, and watched him hang up. "You really like this guy, don't you?" she said, soft. For some reason, she felt like crying.

"What? Kim, are – hey, what's wrong?" He slid onto the couch next to her and automatically put an arm around her.

"Nothing, nothing, it – hey uh, he doesn't know your number. Want me to give it to him, so he can call you? I can … give you his number too." She tried not to let her voice sound too choked up.

"Oh – shit, yeah, thanks. Are you _sure_ you're okay? That was the deal, I go on that date, you talk to me about what's wrong."

"I _did_ talk to you. I'm fine now. _Really_," she added, when he just looked at her disbelievingly. "Can we watch Grease?" she asked after a minute. Her voice sounded kind of small.

"Sure," he nodded, though he seemed reluctant to move from her side. He set the DVD up while she texted Nick and put his number into Ty's phone, and they watched the movie, Tyson more subdued than usual. He kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye, but she just absorbed herself in the story, singing along under her breath.

Tyson's phone rang just as Danny spotted the new leather-clad Sandy, and he ducked out into his room to take the call. Kim sang along under her breath for a few lines, but as Danny watched Sandy's ass as she climbed up the fairground ride, Kim felt something in her chest snap and she sobbed. It hadn't been particularly loud, but she half registered a movement from Tyson's doorway, and a few moments later, as she let out another sob, he said something quickly and darted back into the room. He wrapped his arms around her and she shook, crying hard, until the car on the screen took off.

"What's wrong, baby, what's the matter?" Tyson murmured, stroking his fingertips through her hair, smoothing it down.

"I don't know," she whispered through gulps of air. "I don't know, I feel like I'm – I'm falling apart at the seams, like I'm _coming apart_, am I – is it all still there, is it – Ty," she whispered. She didn't even realise she was clinging too hard to him until he gently moved her hand away and she saw the red marks. "Shit, Ty, I'm sorry, I –" And just like that, the world righted itself again. She sat up, extracting herself from his arms. "Fuck. I'm so sorry, I don't know what got _into_ me, I – I'm fine now, I'm –"

"You are _not_ fine," Tyson stated. "Kim, what the fuck, what's going on?" He tried to pull her back towards him, but she stood up instead.

"Listen, I – I'm going to go have a shower. I'm _fine_, I'm fine, really. It was just a – a weird moment. Guess it was the movie, or something, I get so overemotional sometimes – I'll uh." She gestured, and then escaped out of the room.

The pounding water made her realise just how tight her shoulders were. She kneaded them under the spray, letting the steam rise around her in billows, slowly relaxing all of the muscles in her back. She'd had a few moments like that one this week, but usually in the middle of the night, and she'd sneak out to the bathroom so as not to disturb Brittany with her crying. She figured it must just be stress, what with being fired and looking for a new job, the uncertainty of it, not that it was the end of the _world_ if it took her a little while, she'd still be able to eat, and if the worst came to the worst Ty would help her out, and so would Brit, and she'd get _through this_. But maybe it snuck up on her, just for moments, because there was no other explanation for them. So that must be it.

When she got out of the shower, she found Tyson and Brittany in huddled whispers in the living room. "Hey," she greeted them, "I've got a headache, I think I'm just gonna. Maybe take something and go get some rest. I guess I've," she carried on, because they were both watching her with concerned eyes and she just wanted to escape into bed, "just been stressed lately, I'm not feeling so good."

Brittany got up, came over to her, and wrapped both arms around her. She kissed her, gently. "Rest is good," she agreed. "Want me to come with?"

"No, I'll be alright, I'll just. Take something, y'know, for the headache." She kissed Brittany's cheek and said, "Goodnight, Ty," and left the room.

She lay in bed for a minute before taking anything, just to close her eyes for a second, but she was asleep almost instantly. She didn't wake when Brittany slid into the bed later that night, nor when she got up again in the morning and got ready for work. When she finally did wake up, Brittany was gone, but she'd left a note on the pillow that read _At work until 3. Love you, B xx_

Kim looked at the clock, remembered that it was Saturday, and closed her eyes again.

When she finally opened them, feeling like only a few minutes had passed, it was dark and Mr Whiskers was curled around her ankles. She got up, stumbling and reeling even after she'd found the light switch, and discovered Tyson in the kitchen. She started making some coffee, but Tyson took the jar out of her hand and began making it for her. "Ugh," she moaned, "what time is it? How long was I asleep?"

"It's ten, Brittany went home, and you've pretty much been out for twenty-four hours." He handed her the coffee. "Are you coming down with something? Here, let me check for a fever." He pressed a palm to her forehead. It felt deliciously cool. "Shit, your head's all warm. You should probably take something."

"I'm getting sick?" she asked, feeling small and young but at least like this would make sense of how awful she'd been pretending she didn't feel.

"Looks like. My poor girl," Tyson soothed, pulling her close for a warm hug. "I'll make you soup and feed you medicine and you'll feel all better." He said it in the small squeaky voice they'd always used when either one of them was sick, calculated entirely to make the sick one smile. It worked.

"What would I do without you, Ty?" Kim muttered, as the percolator popped and bubbled.

Instead of his usual answer ("Die, clearly") Tyson just looked at her and said, "Don't find out, okay?"

* * *

Tuesday was Nick's early finish day, when his last period was a planning period, so he basically finished up at one twenty-five. Most Tuesdays he spent the last hour at school, though, working on the lesson plans for the next few days, getting as much of his paperwork done as possible so he didn't have to take any home.

On that particular Tuesday, after a weekend spent partly at Mike and Chris's suppressing the simultaneous urges to drive as far away as possible and proposition them for a threesome, and partly at home watching movies with Robyn and Toad and Jeff (because Jeff's fiancée was visiting her parents and Nick had not hung out with Jeff at the weekend for almost three weeks) Nick realised at lunch time that his cell phone had been stolen by one of the kids. It had been left to languish at the bottom of a paint tin and was discovered during a freshman art class, when it had almost been poured out into a paper tray.

So he spent his free period and the rest of the afternoon at first trying to salvage what he could of the phone, but at last giving up and driving into town to find a cell phone store. It took him a lot longer than he'd thought it possibly could to buy a new phone and have it activated, so he only had enough time to program in Robyn's number and John's, both of which he knew from memory, before he had to get ready for his second date with Tyson.

This time, he dressed even more carefully. It was a nice bar, so he felt okay with wearing a pair of his more casual suit pants. The kind that said hey, he was well-dressed, but he wasn't afraid to have a good relaxing time either. He coupled those with his favourite pair of boots, which had the added advantage of the very small heel that put him at an even height with Tyson. Then he picked out a well-cut black shirt that sidled up to you and stated, softly, "Well hello there. Care for a small chatette?" He laid them out on the bed, after making it up with new sheets, shook out the curtains, wiped the windows, hoovered the floor, and took the basket to the laundry room. Then he showered, brushed his teeth, cleaned the bath and the floor, got the specks of toothpaste off the mirror, and finally got dressed, his towel hanging over the heater.

Robyn would be at Toad's that night. He swept his eyes one last time over his bedroom and decided it was good enough. He gathered the few glasses that had been left out in the living room and put them in the dishwasher. He wiped the kitchen counters down, checked the clock again, and concluded that he wouldn't be _too_ early if he left right then.

There was a pleasant breeze in the air. The bar was only ten blocks away, so he walked it, drinking in the scents of the trees lining the streets. The route took a gentle downhill slope, and he felt good. He felt like a guy who was going to finally fucking get laid tonight.

When he got to the bar, he ordered a glass of wine and sat up on one of the high stools, positioned near enough to the door that Tyson would see him even if the place was crowded, but not so close it looked like he was waiting for someone. He sipped his drink and watched the other bar goers. A couple who were obviously still in the first flushes were sitting at a table near him, their ankles slowly entwining as they gazed into each other's eyes and she played with her straw. A group of women, one of whom was in a wedding dress and another in a supposedly nurse's uniform, gathered at the bar and loudly ordered cocktails. A man who looked to be in his late thirties was sitting in one corner, resolutely reading a book. To Nick, sitting there feeling detached from the scene, it seemed like a small act of rebellion.

He noticed himself getting existential and thoughtful, so he ordered another glass of wine and tried not to sneak too many glances at his watch.

After a while, the couple left, probably to go home and have sex. The group of loud women in costumes also left, gleefully shouting something about a club. The man with the book read on. Nick looked at his watch. Tyson was twenty minutes late, he'd give him another five. Tyson was half an hour late, maybe his taxi had got stuck in traffic. Tyson was forty-five minutes late, perhaps it had taken him a while to find one.

Tyson was an hour late.

Tyson, Nick realised, had stood him up.

He drained his glass and got up. The book-reading man gave him a tiny smile as he left, but Nick just grunted in return. He walked the ten blocks back, the air colder, his shirt too thin, too wide open at the neck. He let himself in and saw the empty living room, the too-clean bedroom, the sparkling bathroom.

He flung himself onto the couch and found his episodes of Good Eats on the TiVo. At least Alton Brown had never let him down. Alton wouldn't stand you up after making you think he liked you. Alton would cook you delicious potato bakes and woo you with vegetables. Nick hugged the remote and thought about putting an ad in the personals. _Wanted: a guy like Alton Brown. Glasses optional._

Maybe it was time for the ice cream.

He was just doling out three scoops and drizzling chocolate sauce onto them when he heard the front door open. "Rob?" he called, wondering if she and Toad had had a fight. He hoped not. "What are you doing home, I thought you were –"

"Nick, where have you _been_?" Robyn stood in the kitchen doorway, her hair awry from where she'd just yanked off her hat. "Didn't you get our messages?"

"What – no, my phone took a bath in some paint, I had to get a new one – what messages? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's Kim. She's in the hospital."

Nick dropped his spoon. "Shit, what happened, is she okay?"

"She was in a car accident this morning, on her way to that interview. The other guy was alright, but Kim – she broke some bones, there was some kind of bruising, the doctors said she's lucky she didn't puncture a lung – she'll be okay, they're just keeping her in to make sure. But she'll be alright."

"Shit." Nick grasped the counter for something to do. "Is she – can I go see her, is it –"

"It's too late tonight, they made us leave. Tyson said he'll go back tomorrow morning before work, he's starting read-throughs but the hours are weird. I said I'd go in after school."

"Yeah, yeah I'll come with you." Nick stopped. "Wait, Tyson was there?"

"Yeah, he's been there since this morning. Y-- oh." Robyn's hand flew to her mouth. "You – you thought he stood you up?"

"Um. Yeah." Nick moved so he was standing in front of the ice cream bowl, but Robyn had already seen it.

"And you – wow," she said, craning her neck to look around him, "chocolate sauce? Were you going to put sprinkles on?"

"Um." Nick examined the floor. It was pretty clean, but he'd probably need to go over it again at the weekend.

"Wow." Robyn was looking at him, soft, when he glanced back up. "You really like him, don't you?"

"I don't – I don't _know_ him, Rob," Nick sighed. "I always feel like he's playing a game with me. But I guess I, I mean – I kind of want to see him again," he admitted.

Robyn put her arm around his shoulders. "He really likes you too, you know. He was going frantic when he couldn't get hold of you, but when Kim said he should go find you and explain, he refused to leave her bedside. He's really sweet, I swear to you."

"Maybe around Kim," he shook his head. "But every time he talks to me, it's like – I don't know, it gets weird. And really intense. I'm not sure I want to _do_ intense, y'know?"

Robyn shook her head in exasperation. "My _God_ you're so picky." She squeezed his side in a quick half-hug. "I love you, you weirdo."

"I love you too. Weirdo yourself. You going over to Toad's tonight?"

"Yeah, is that okay?" Nick nodded, so she kissed his cheek and put her hat back on. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Have a good night," Nick called after her. He grabbed the sprinkles out of the cupboard and went back to his TiVo.

He drove Robyn to the hospital after school the next day, since her car was still at Toad's and Toad was having a football night with some of his friends. He'd run out at lunch time and returned with a Get Well Soon card he'd passed around the faculty room. He pressed it into Nick's hands when school ended that day and told him to give Kim his love. Robyn blew a kiss to him as he drove off, and he cheerfully blew one back.

"Things with you and Kevin are getting kind of serious, huh?" Nick asked, as Robyn buckled her seatbelt.

"Thank you," she said, quiet. "You called him Kevin."

Nick shrugged. "He doesn't mind me calling him Toad, right?"

"No, no, he thinks it's neat, it's just. Sometimes it's like I'm the only one who uses his name," she shrugged.

"Isn't that," Nick faltered but carried on, "kind of nice, though? I mean, that you have this – special thing that only you get to do?"

Robyn patted his leg. "You really miss having a boyfriend, don't you?" she said, sympathetic. Nick just nodded.

"I'm a house cat," he reminded her. They had once had a three-day-long discussion of what animal they'd be, and both had agreed that Nick would be a cat. Most of the three days had been devoted to what _kind_ of cat he'd be; it had quickly been established that Robyn would be a tigress, and once that was agreed there was nothing either could add to it. In the end, they had concluded that Nick would be a tabby, one of those ones with dark stripes, a few ginger patches, and white paws. Robyn had then sketched him as a cat, with the glasses he occasionally wore for reading perched on its whiskers, and coloured the drawing in with pencils. Nick had had it framed, and it still hung near his wardrobe.

It took them a few minutes to find a parking space in the hospital's lot, and when they passed by the shop inside it they bought a bunch of flowers, so by the time they finally got to Kim's room a nurse ushered them out again straight away, saying that Kim needed her regular checks but it would only take a few minutes. They waited outside, Nick holding onto the card and Robyn sniffing at the flowers. Brittany showed up right before the nurse called them back in.

"Hi baby," Brittany said, her voice hushed, as she leaned over and kissed Kim's cheek. Nick edged around the bed and sat in one of the chairs on the other side of it. He smiled at her and held out the card.

"This is from everyone at school. Toad sends his love," he added. Kim smiled as she opened the envelope and read all the messages inside.

"I haven't even met most of these people," she said. Her voice sounded slightly hoarse.

"Well, they're all thinking of you," Robyn told her, gentle.

"That's really nice of them." Kim sounded grateful, and kind of content. She patted Brittany's hand and said, "Listen, girls, can I have a minute with Nick?"

"Sure, honey," Brittany replied. "We'll just be outside, okay?"

"Thanks. I love you," Kim called after them both as they left. She turned to Nick when the door had closed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "You … look pretty beat up." He tried not to wince, but mentally kicked himself. She just laughed.

"I had a fight with a car," she said, grinning a little. She leaned closer and added, in a conspiratorial sort of voice, "It didn't win."

"Good." Nick couldn't help grinning back. "Rob said you'll be okay, that – the doctors said you'll be fine."

"Oh, I will. Quit stalling, you know I want to talk to you about Tyson." Kim was watching him closely, and Nick blushed.

"Uh. Okay then." He shifted in his seat.

"He told me you blew him off at the end of your first date," she said, sitting up carefully. He held her pillows for her and tried to arrange them comfortably. "Thanks, it's okay, I've got it. So – what happened?"

Nick blew the air out of his cheeks. "Well, it – the date was okay, I guess. He's just – he's a little intense, y'know? And it was just kind of … weird. Like he was playing some big game but nobody told me the rules. Does … that make any sense?"

Kim was watching him, thoughtful. "Yeah, you know what, it does." She paused. "Why'd you give him a second chance?"

Nick sat back and looked up at the ceiling for a second. "He called me at my school, Kim. He … I don't know, I just thought –" He looked at her quickly, and then down at his lap. "I thought maybe he liked me. And, I don't know, I kind of just wanted to see if – if it could go anywhere. But I guess, I mean – it didn't happen, and he's just so _weird_, like – he puts on these voices," he said, talking faster, leaning forward and watching her eyes, "he talks to everyone differently. I just don't think he's being _him_ when he talks to me, and I'm … to be honest, okay, I'm kind of desperate. But I'm not _that_ desperate."

Kim didn't say anything for a minute. She just nodded, and looked over at the wall. Nick played with his cuffs nervously, wishing she would speak. At last, she said, "I spent all weekend with Ty, and he didn't bring anyone home. That hasn't happened … since I've known the guy, basically." She looked at him. "I don't know if it means anything, he's kind of been taking care of me, but –"

"Taking care of you? Are you okay?" Nick thought that, aside from the bruising and the casts on her arm and leg, she looked fine.

"I thought I was getting sick, and either I was and all the meds Ty gave me made it go away, or I wasn't and I just had a nice weekend in bed. But yeah, Ty's been making soup and we've watched old movies and stuff."

"Really? Does he like old movies?" Nick didn't realise he was leaning forward eagerly until she laughed.

"You know, me and Rob wanted to set you up because you were both so annoying. We figured you'd hate each other, but God, you should _see_ you two. I don't think Ty even realises it, but he likes you a lot."

"We were annoying?" Nick thought about it for a minute. "Well, I guess, I mean – I can be kind of a bitch sometimes."

"Especially, according to Rob, when you haven't gotten laid in forever. And Ty is _always_ bringing home these bright young boythings who screw him and get fake phone numbers if they ask for one. He screws around, Nick. I don't mean that he'd cheat on a boyfriend, but he hasn't _had_ a boyfriend in his entire life. To be totally honest with you, it was sort of a … payback thing, that first date. Because Tyson doesn't date and you're really picky, but – I guess it backfired, because Tyson really likes you and now he thinks he's blown it."

"Well." Nick swallowed. "He kind of has. I – he screws around?"

Kim reached out and patted his hand. "Nick, I don't know you all that well. Not as well as I'd like, maybe. But even _I_ can see that you like him, and he likes you, so – why don't you give him another chance?"

"Because he's weird and he's playing some dumb game and he screws around," Nick answered, "and I just don't want that."

"What _do_ you want?"

Most people ask that question as if they want to know the answer, but they don't, and it's clear that they don't. Kim, however, asked because she really did want to know, so Nick sighed and said, "I guess, just … a good boyfriend. Someone like Toad is for Rob, y'know? Like Brittany is for you, although that's girlfriend, but you know what I mean."

Kim shrugged. "Partner. Same thing."

"Right. I just, I kind of miss having that, y'know?"

"A kind of sense of belonging." She looked almost close to tears, and he made a clumsy movement as if to hug her or wipe them away or stand up, or something in between.

"Hey, I'm – sorry, hey, are you okay?"

"People keep asking me that lately," Kim said, sounding as if she didn't know whether to sigh or laugh.

"Maybe you should talk to them," Nick suggested, hoping it was the right thing to say.

"Yeah. Maybe. Hey, could you call the girls back in?"

"Yeah. And – and thanks." He stood up and made to move towards the door, but she grabbed his wrist loosely.

"Will you be friends with him, at least? He's a good friend, I promise."

Nick realised he was smiling. "I'd like that." She let go of his wrist; he patted hers affectionately and a little awkwardly, and then he went to call the girls back in.

On the way back home, Robyn asked him, "What did Kim want to talk to you about?"

"Tyson," he answered. "Yeah, that whole thing's … not really happening. But we're gonna be friends, I hope."

"Yeah?" She sat back and watched the streetlights go past. "I'm glad."

* * *

Kim lay in silence for a while, after visiting hours had finished and Brittany and Robyn and Nick had gone home. Tyson wasn't due to finish read-throughs for another half hour, but he'd already arranged to come in and visit after that, so she waited.

The hospital sounds settled around her and she listened until they melted into a background burr. A soothing murmur, almost, of squeaking footsteps and wheels and beeps and voices in another room. Her eyes drifted closed to the swish swish of distant hospital gowns.

When she woke up, Tyson was sitting next to her bed, holding her hand. "Hey, how's my girl?" he asked, smiling at her softly, and she had a moment of perfect clarity and a thought that came with it: _He'd be so happy with Nick_. She tried to push away the tinge of sadness.

"I'm doing okay," she answered. "How was work?"

"Thrilling," he replied, half wry and half excited. "Although going on first impressions, I am not going to get on with my leading lady. But since she made it _clear_ that she wants a stunt double for the kissing scenes, I'm guessing it goes both ways."

"Oh Ty," Kim sighed. "Was she horribly obnoxious?"

"Very. She called me a fag, and not affectionately. Just because – remember that party six months ago, with the dude's house that had a spiral palm tree up his staircase? And remember the guy who was serving the vol-au-vents, how I ended up having sex with him in the pool? Yeah, apparently that was her brother, and she doesn't approve."

"Why, was he upset or something?"

"No, he's on the cast, my character's love interest's cousin's next-door neighbour, or something, he was fine. Said it was nice to see me again and I was looking good. I said the same to him. No, she just doesn't want her baby brother to be gay."

"Wow. Okay, yeah, permission to hate her." Kim shook her head. "So hey, unless something else happened at work, I have something to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Tyson shifted closer, tilting towards her quizzically. Kim almost patted him on the head, but thought better of it.

"Nick was here earlier. And I talked to him and … I'm sorry, Ty, he just doesn't want to date you."

"Oh." Tyson sat back. "Oh. Um. Okay? Did he say why?"

"Yeah, he uh – he said you were kind of weird and intense, and he felt like you were playing games with him or something, and he's not into that. He wants a _boyfriend_, Ty. And I … kind of told him that you screw around, so uh. Not – not that you'd _cheat_ or anything, just sleeping with a lot of different guys. So. Sorry about that."

"Oh." Tyson nodded, a short movement. "No, that's, yeah, that's okay. Okay then. Good to know."

"He did say he'd like to be friends, though. He _likes_ you, he just … he's looking for different … things." Her voice trailed off as he shot her a wounded look.

"That's bullshit. That's one of those stupid bullshit things boyfriends say – you're just not what I'm _looking_ for right now, I need to find out about _me_, I want some _space_ – bull. Shit." He looked at her. "Tell me straight. Please."

Kim looked back at him. "He wants commitment, Tyson. He wants a boyfriend who'll be there and hang out with him. Someone to have _communication_ with. You don't _do_ that, and he didn't need me to tell him that. He'd already guessed." She sighed. "But you should see his face when your name gets mentioned, Ty. He likes you, he really does."

"Right. Right. Well, I guess, yeah. I guess it wouldn't work out, I mean – yeah." Tyson was looking at his lap. She squeezed his hand.

"But you two can be friends, and you can carry on having sex with as many boythings as you want," she pointed out.

"They're not boythings," Tyson protested. "They're – they're Rich and Marco and Johnny and Taylor and Harry. These guys have _names_, okay?"

"I know, I'm sorry. But you can just do your thing with all the Richs and Marcos and Johnnys in Los Angeles, and you've got another friend now. Okay?"

"Right." Tyson was still looking down at his lap. "Right." Finally, he looked up, and he gave her a tight smile. "It's all good."

Kim opened her arms, and he leaned over to hug her. "Exactly," she said, glad he couldn't see her face. "It's all good."

* * *

Nick decided, after the whole Tyson thing, that he may as well make it _official_ that he was desperate, and signed up for a dating website. The first four guys who sent him messages made him want to burn his computer just to get far enough away from them, but the fifth one sounded nice. A normal, down-to-earth kind of a guy, who liked music and movies and worked for a computer company. Nick sent him a message back and they arranged to meet up for a date.

Robyn hovered over his shoulder as he tried to pick out something to wear. "What happened to all this 'I'll never go on a date with someone I don't _know_' shit?"

"You set me up with Tyson," he pointed out, moving hangars aside and holding up a red shirt. "Too much?"

"Mmm. Muted colours would be better, like …" She reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a silky dark brown shirt. "How about this one?"

He shrugged. "Alright."

Toad managed not to snigger when he said to have a good night as Nick left, and Robyn just waved anxiously. Nick got a taxi, figuring that at least he could drink if it turned out to be a disaster.

The date, in fact, went well. Much better than any date Nick had had in a long while. They didn't run out of topics of conversation, there were barely any awkward pauses, and the guy really was very cute. All the same, when the night ended, Nick kissed him and said it had been fun but he had to work in the morning. The guy looked disappointed, but nodded and said alright then.

The same thing happened with the next guy he met on the website; the date went well, the conversation barely stopped, and Nick laughed more in one night than he had in the previous week. But when it came to it, he just didn't want to invite this stranger back home.

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?" he moaned to Robyn, sprawled out on the couch and half over her legs. She was petting his knees soothingly. "I meet a nice guy, he's funny and great, we hit it off, he's interested, I'm not _un_interested, but then I just … say fucking _goodnight_." He dropped his arm over his eyes. "I am doomed. Doomed to be an old spinster fag with a million cats and two teeth between us."

Robyn sighed. "You w-" she began, but just then Nick's phone rang.

"Um," Nick said, reading the display, "it's Tyson."

"I'll be in my room, okay?" Robyn patted his shins and left while Nick pressed the 'answer call' button.

"Hey, hi," he said, feeling his stomach swoop.

"Hi." Tyson's voice sounded different, and it took Nick a couple of seconds to realise that was because there was no seduction in it. "I was just … calling to ask how it's going. Y'know. How are you?"

He sounded awkward, and a little hopeful, and he definitely wasn't coming onto him. Nick felt relieved, but not as much as he'd thought he would. "Oh, you know. I just had a couple dates, not sure if either will go anywhere. You?"

"Uh." Tyson sounded kind of taken aback. "Yeah, no, I – there's this guy at work, the dolly grip? He's really cute. Was thinking of making some moves."

"Right, yeah." Nick felt as though he were sinking, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Sounds, uh. Good, yeah."

There was a pause so awkward Nick was amazed it didn't become solid and grow legs. "Can we start again?" Tyson asked at last, and Nick let the breath he'd been holding out.

"Yeah, yeah that sounds good. Listen, I hear your hours are crazy or something, but if you're free this weekend maybe we could go for coffee somewhere? Just," he added quickly, "just as friends, you know, not a date."

"That sounds good. I'm free uh, how about Sunday afternoon? I could pick you up from your place, we could just see where we end up."

"Yeah, great idea. Okay, so I'll … see you Sunday – about three?"

"Three's good. Yeah, I'll see you then."

"Yeah. Okay then." Nick risked opening his eyes, and saw Robyn standing in the doorway. "See you then." He hung up, and moved his legs so she could sit down again.

She didn't sit down. "You need some ice cream?"

He shook his head. "We're going for coffee on Sunday. Just as friends, you know."

"Yeah." Robyn sat, watching his face carefully. "You sure you don't need ice cream? You look a little … low-fat soya worthy."

"No, I'm okay, I'm just." He sighed. "I'm doomed," he repeated, slumping further into the cushions.

She held up the remote. "On a scale of Doctor Who to Muppets, how bad is it?"

He considered, carefully. "I'd say about a Columbo."

"Columbo it is." He bent his legs so she could get up, and kept them bent while she picked out the right DVD and started it up. She sat down again, and he stretched across her thighs.

"Toad coming over later?" he asked, as the menu screen started up.

"Yeah, his brother's leaving in about," she checked her watch, "an hour. Kevin's going to see him off at the airport and come here."

"Cool. I think my earplugs are still working." He shot her a grin, and she thumped his leg with a loose fist.

"Ass."

Kim was allowed home from the hospital that Friday, so Nick, Robyn and Toad went over with wine, pretzels and another bunch of flowers. Robyn also gave her a stuffed bear with "I ♥ you" stitched into its stomach. When Brittany started asking them what take-out they'd like for dinner, Nick offered to cook something instead.

"Take him up on it," Toad told them. "I swear, if I swung that way, I would sleep with him just for his mushroom risotto. It's tempting as it is."

Nick puckered his lips and Robyn poked him on the arm. "Don't you go stealing my boyfriend with your food," she giggled. He put an arm around her.

"It's okay, you'd just steal him back with that outfit I saw in your laundry yesterday."

"Oh God." Robyn buried her face in her hands. Toad was obviously trying not to grin too hard. "Shoot me now. This is like my _brother_ finding out."

Nick patted her on the arm, holding down laughter. "Honey, I think your brother's gathered by now that you don't just snuggle." His voice cracked, a fraction of a laugh escaping.

"Oh _don't_," Robyn groaned, hiding in Toad's shoulder. He was shaking with silent laughter already, and then another part of the same laugh made its way past Nick's throat, and then all five of them were laughing.

Over the noise came the sound of the front door closing. "Hey, what's funny?" Tyson asked as he shucked his jacket off. He dropped into the chair next to Kim's and kissed her on the temple.

Brittany pointed at Robyn and said, through her giggles, "She has sex with Toad." All five of them burst into fresh laughter. Tyson shook his head.

"I guess you had to be there, right?"

Toad composed himself enough to say, "Nick – Nick found one of Robyn's, uh, _outfits_ in the laundry. Poor Rob got all traumatised."

"He's like my _brother_," she repeated, clearly torn between laughter and horror. "I don't want him to know I have sex!"

"That's what I have earplugs for," Nick reminded her, and Robyn buried her face in Toad's shoulder again, laughing.

"Wow, you crazy kids and your whirligig of fun." Tyson shook his head. The laughter gradually died down. "I'm starving, folks, where's the pizza guy?"

Brittany pointed at Nick. "He's cooking."

"Oh – you cook?" Tyson asked, looking at Nick. It was the first time he'd addressed him, in person, without obviously mentally taking his clothes off. Nick swallowed and shifted slightly.

"Yeah. Uh, let me go see what you guys have." He stepped over several pairs of legs on his way to the kitchen, and when he got there he opened cupboards and looked in the fridge and the freezer.

"There's saucepans under the drawers." Tyson's voice came from the doorway, making Nick jump. "Sorry. Hi."

Nick swallowed, suddenly assaulted with a full-senses memory of the last time they'd kissed, Tyson pushing him up against his front door, the way he'd tasted. He swallowed again and said, "Thanks."

They ate clustered around the coffee table, Nick sitting between Robyn and Brittany, trying not to stare at Tyson too much. "Oh wow," Kim breathed after her first mouthful. "This really _is_ good."

"See, I told you." Toad gestured with his fork at her. "I would totally sleep with you for food like this," he added to Nick. Somewhat pointedly.

Tyson didn't say a word, and Nick's cheeks were red for the entire rest of the meal. Later, as they were leaving, Tyson pulled him aside and said, "Are we still on for Sunday?" and Nick nodded, avoiding his eyes because he had a horrible feeling that if he looked up he'd do something really stupid like kissing the living fucking daylights out of Tyson. So he just nodded again, grabbed his jacket, and left.

When they got home, Robyn hugged him and said, "Alton?"

He nodded. "Alton."

"I'll get the sprinkles."

Nick sighed when she handed him a bowl full of ice cream scoops seeped in syrup and covered in sprinkles. "Robyn, you are a doll. Now go screw your boyfriend's brains out."

"Please stop," she groaned, hitting him with a cushion. Toad just grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

"I think we should do as the man says," he murmured.

Nick turned the volume up on the TV and dug his spoon into the ice cream structure, while on the screen Alton began to detail the many uses for cabbage.

* * *

"I don't know if I can do this."

Kim watched Tyson pace, one hand up to his face as he chewed on his thumb. "Do what?" she asked. Mr Whiskers, who was sitting on her lap, flicked his tail.

"Be friends with him, like – you saw what that dinner was like, he wouldn't even _look_ at me. Oh God, I blew it, I fucking _blew it_." He collapsed into the armchair and looked over at her pathetically.

"Oh Ty," was all she said. If she could have reached, she'd have petted his arm.

"Should I call him? I mean, maybe I should say I'm sick, or – no, wait, I don't want to lie to the dude." He stood up and started pacing again. "Maybe I can – maybe it'll be okay. Right?" He turned to her, imploringly. "We can be friends, right?"

She bit her lip but said, "Of course you can."

"Right." He sat down in the chair again, the movement more a folding fall than anything. "Yeah. Shit, what should I wear? What _do_ you wear for coffee with the guy you –" He stopped. "Shit, I don't even know what."

"The guy you like who rejected you but still has a very obvious and massive crush on you?" Kim supplied. "I'd say what you're wearing now's fine."

"He – crush on me? Really?"

Kim rolled her eyes. "_Huge_. Trust me." Mr Whiskers made a small _mrrw_ sound as he yawned, as if in agreement.

Tyson played with the hem of his jeans. He was folded up so his legs and arms stuck out at odd angles.

"Almost as big as the one you have on him," she continued, unable to suppress a grin as he looked up sharply. Then he just shrugged and nodded.

"Well. Yeah. He's _hot_," he exclaimed, falling back against the chair, "and he can _cook_ and he makes me laugh and shit, seriously, Kim, I haven't _felt_ like this about anyone before. And _ugh_ that's such a fucking cliché, but it's so fucking _true_. I've never met a guy like Nick Wheeler."

Kim decided not to say _You totally want to date him, hah, I _knew_ it_, and instead went with, "Aren't you going to be late?"

Tyson looked at his watch. "Shit, yeah, unless I leave now." He squared his shoulders. "Time to go be just friends."

"You can do it." Kim gave him two thumbs up.

He stopped at the door, darted back into the room and said, "Are you _sure_ what I'm wearing is fine?"

"_Yes_, now go," she gestured. "Shoo, go on. Go make googly eyes."

Tyson said, "I hate you," but he blew her a kiss before he left. She just laughed, and settled down with the pile of magazines Brittany had brought her, one hand kneading at Mr Whiskers' fur.

* * *

Tyson was late, but instead of arriving in style to be _noticed_, this time he just rang the doorbell and breathlessly apologised. "I got stuck in traffic," he said, looking at Nick like he was desperate to be forgiven.

Nick's heart ricocheted around his ribs. "It's okay. You want to come in? I'll give you the tour before we go."

"Okay, yeah, that'd be great." Tyson looked relieved and Nick led him inside.

"This is the front hall," he said, complete with sweeping arm gesture. Tyson made 'ooh' noises, and Nick's voice hitched a laugh as he said, "And through here, we have the living room. TV, Robyn's DVDs," he indicated the cases piled onto a shelf, "_my_ DVDs," indicating the neat rows covering four and a half shelves, "and our great guardian, the TiVo." He patted the box fondly as they passed. "That door leads to the laundry room, out from the patio doors is," he slid one of them open and led Tyson outside, "the uh, patio. Roof of the garage, really, we just keep the sun chairs and the table out here mostly. Sometimes we eat here, when it's nice and we're home when the sun's setting. It's pretty beautiful."

Tyson looked around appreciatively. "I knew you'd have a good view."

Nick, thinking of the way he'd said it last time, blushed. He cleared his throat, hoping Tyson wouldn't notice, and took him back inside. "And through here is my domain, the kitchen." Tyson took in the cabinets, the surfaces, the oven, the microwave, and the tall fridge-freezer whose surface was covered in magnets.

"Hey," he said, leaning closer to read some of them, "I saw that _When in doubt, add more wine_ one someplace … oh! That's right." He turned back to Nick. "This guy once, he was working on a shoot, he had this weird accent, like he'd been dropped in the middle of the Atlantic ocean?"

"Yeah? My sister got me that one on vacation." He led Tyson out into the hall again. "That door's the bathroom, that one's Robyn's room so we'll leave that and here," he opened his door, "is my room."

Tyson stepped into it with the air of someone who is trying not to break a spell. "It's nice," he said, looking around. He spotted the framed picture near the wardrobe and moved closer. "Hey, this is pretty good. Who drew this?"

"Robyn. It's uh, it's me as a cat."

Tyson looked at Nick, then back at the drawing. "But this cat's wearing glasses."

"Yeah, I uh, I wear glasses sometimes. For reading." He pointed to the case by the bed. Tyson looked over, then at Nick and back to the drawing again. He seemed to be trying to arrange his features into an impassive expression.

"Oh." He peered at the drawing. "You know what, this cat looks like it should be called Socks. But like – Socks McGee." He grinned at Nick over his shoulder. "You know what I mean? Like, Socks McGee can get you anything you want, if you've got the right price."

"Like he could bust you out of jail?" Nick matched Tyson's grin and moved closer, looking at the picture again. He did have rather a mischievous air; perhaps it was the whiskers.

"Dude, he's a criminal _mastermind_. The brains of the operation," Tyson tapped his own temple, "the one you never see. He _never_ gets caught."

"Like Macavity," Nick grinned. Tyson straightened up and put one hand to his chest.

"Macavity," he began to recite in a grand voice, "Macavity, there's no one like Macavity. He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity. His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare. And when you reach the scene of crime – _Macavity's not there_!" This last was delivered in hushed tones and wide eyes.

Nick tried very, very hard not to let any of the sounds rushing through him escape via his throat. When he could finally trust himself to speak again, he said, "You uh, you like that poem, huh?"

"Are you kidding me? TS Eliot is the _shit_." Tyson grinned at him. "And Cats is my favourite musical. Whatever else you might think, you cannot deny that Memory is a fucking classic."

"Uh. Uh, yeah." Nick had to pretend he had a cough, for a minute, but when he could talk again and had stopped thinking _He is so fucking cute he is so fucking cute he is **so fucking cute**_ on a loop, he said, "I guess we should –" but in the middle of the sentence, Tyson's phone rang.

"Shit, it's the producer," he said. "I have to take this, sorry."

"Go ahead," Nick waved an encouraging hand motion.

"Hi," Tyson said into the phone. "Well, I – I'm with a friend, we had pla- I know. Yes. I can be there in," he checked his watch, "twenty minutes, I – I'll be there. As soon as I can. Yes. Okay." He hung up, looking like he wanted to hurl the phone across the room. "I'm really sorry about this, but I have to go. There's some location we can only have today, but they _just_ got it agreed and we have to start shooting like, now. I'm _really_ sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. We can hang out some other time," Nick said, feeling his heart sinking into his knees.

"It's just, they'll fire me if I don't get there, and I need this job, it could make my career in movies." Tyson sounded like he was pleading, _willing_ Nick to forgive him. As far as Nick was concerned, there was nothing to forgive him _for_.

"It's okay, really. You should go," he practically pushed Tyson out of the room, stopping short of actual bodily contact. "Don't get fired, Ty. I'll be here when you don't have to work, seriously."

"Thank you, so much, I will make this up to you. I promise." Tyson dashed out to his car, and Nick watched him drive away before sinking onto the couch, finding some episodes of Friends on the TiVo, and curling up to watch them.

He switched his cell phone on at the end of Monday's classes and it beeped to inform him of a new voicemail message. He listened to it as he gathered stray drum sticks and music stands and put them away in the band room.

"Hi Nick, it's Tyson." He sounded hurried. "I'm still really sorry about yesterday, and the shooting schedule is kind of insane. I have a night off in like, a week, but that's it. Can we do something uhm … next weekend some time? Call me."

"You're in a good mood," Robyn beamed at him when he went to pick up some paperwork in the faculty room. That was when he noticed he was humming Two Steps Behind under his breath.

"I guess I am," he smiled at her. "Ty called, we're gonna reschedule for next weekend. He's got crazy hours with the shooting, y'know?"

"So you guys are practically dating now. Right?" Jeff asked, sidling up behind him. Nick groaned.

"We are _not_ dating. Tyson doesn't date. We're just going to hang out." He clocked the three incredulous faces of Jeff, Toad and Robyn and added, "Maybe have some coffee. Y'know. _Hang out_. Talk about shit. Yeah, he does that now. It's _nice_," he said, exasperated. "What are you all _looking_ at me like that for?"

John walked up and said, "Hey. What are we giving Nick shit for?"

"He's _not_ dating Tyson, apparently," Jeff informed him, grinning rather too much for Nick's liking.

"Because we're just _friends_," he insisted. John snorted.

"Yeah. Uh huh. Just keep believing that, Nicky." John patted his arm condescendingly.

"Oh fuck you, all of you." Nick shook his head, exasperated.

"No, yeah, you're right," Toad nodded. "Totally friends. You don't desperately want to bang him, or anything like that. _Oh_ no."

"Shut the fuck up." Nick rolled his eyes. "I'm going home, okay? _Home_."

"You coming to yoga tonight?" Robyn asked him, obviously still trying hard not to laugh.

"Yeah, want me to drive you?"

"I can pick you up," Toad spoke up. "We could have supper or something on the way back to my place." He slipped an arm around her waist. "It's been a while since I took you out to eat."

"Mmm, sounds good," Robyn smiled, leaning against him.

"Ugh, you two." John rolled his eyes. "Nick, you're my only single friend. Hide me."

"Stand up to it, John!" Nick said in Coach Voice. "You're bigger than the coupledom! Crush them like an egg!"

Jeff, John and Nick chorused, "Like an _egg_!" and dissolved into laughter. Toad looked at them quizzically, and Robyn shook her head.

"They saw this TV show once, with these kids playing baseball, and the coach said that to them. 'Crush the other team like an egg. Like an _egg_.' They … still quote that."

"That will _never_ not be funny," Jeff informed her.

"Never," Nick added. John just contributed a firm nod to the argument, since everything had already been said for him.

"I am out of here," Robyn said. "I'm surrounded by _guys_," she added in a sigh.

Toad nuzzled her cheek. "But you still like me, right? Even though I'm a guy?"

"I like you best of all," Robyn nodded, and Toad beamed. "Okay. See you all tomorrow. Nick, I'll see you at home."

Jeff turned to Toad after Robyn had gone and said, "So wow, you two, huh? You said the big L yet?"

"Not yet." Toad was still looking in the direction she had gone, even though she was probably at her car by now. "I have to pick the exact right moment for it."

"The big L?" Nick asked.

"He _loves_ her," John explained.

"Oh _dude_." Nick clapped Toad on the back. "Yeah? That's awesome, man. She's totally nuts about you."

Toad ducked his head but couldn't hide his smile. "I thought maybe I'd say it tonight, you know – take her out for something romantic, get candles going at home, and then tell her. Do you think that's okay, d'you think I should? Is it overkill?"

Nick felt like his head might crack in two if he grinned any harder. He grasped Toad in a quick hug and said, "She would love that, seriously. So much."

Toad exhaled nervously. "Okay. Good. Do you – do you think she loves me? I mean, you've known her pretty much forever, right?"

"Since we were kids," Nick nodded. "And yeah – I think she does love you. She hasn't said it, not in so many words, but I've never seen her like this." He felt like hugging him again, but refrained. "Aw dude, I'm so happy for you."

Yoga class that night seemed to speed by, and Nick waved Robyn and Toad off after it and drove home, stopping to rent a DVD and get some wine on the way. He was half way through the movie when his phone beeped with a text message.

It was from Robyn, and it read _Kevin loves me!! We're IN LOVE!!_ Nick typed back _Congratulations!! That's awesome xxxx_ and on the TV screen, a bridge blew up.

Nick decided the next day that he would spend his planning period at Kim's. He bought coffee and some ingredients on the way and when he rang the doorbell he heard her call out, "Just a minute!" The sound of crutches on wooden flooring came closer and closer, and she opened the door. "Nick, hey! What are you doing here?"

"Tuesdays I finish early," he said, holding up his grocery bags, "and I bought some stuff for making lunch. Can I come in?"

"Of course, yes –" She opened the door wider and edged aside so he could get past. He put the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and took a few things out of them that needed chilling. He found places for them in the fridge, and went to join her in the living room. She was sinking back into an armchair, slow going with the crutches. He rushed over to help, and arranged the nest of cushions so she could have her leg propped up. "Thanks," she said, when he'd finished.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked. "Tea, or something?"

"Ty has some tea in the cupboard over the sink. That'd be really great, thank you."

He spread his arms out. "For the next couple hours, I am yours. Figured I could make myself useful and entertain you while everyone's at work, right?"

"You're an angel," she sighed, visibly grateful. "I'm starting to work my entire day around the Cartoon Network. _Save_ me."

"Just wait there, I'll be back in a minute." Nick found the tea, and made it as quickly as he could. He took it in to her and said, "Okay, and I'll be back in another minute. You haven't eaten yet, right?" She shook her head. "Okay, good. I'll be right back." He darted back into the kitchen and made sure the toaster was plugged in.

Ten minutes of watching bagel halves sit in it, grilling salmon, and slicing vegetables later, he grabbed the cream cheese and made the bagels, arranging a crisp, leafy salad around the edges of both plates. He took them into the living room with a small verbal-trumpet fanfare.

"I give you," he announced, grandly, "bagel a la Wheeler." He handed her the plate and a napkin and settled himself with his own on the couch.

Kim bit into her bagel and moaned, "Oh _God_ this is incredible. Mmnf, please come over all the time, you are _very welcome_."

"Maybe food is the secret," Nick observed once he'd swallowed his mouthful. "If I could just cook for a bunch of guys and the one who makes the best noises gets a date. Or something."

Kim laughed. "That might work. Tyson won't stop talking about that dinner you made for us."

Nick tried hard not to blush or burst out into a grin, and hid behind his salad. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kim looked at him for a moment, and then laughed again. "You may as well have a huge flashing sign over your head, Nick."

"Not you as well," he groaned. "They would not shut up about it yesterday, I swear. We're just _friends_."

"I know." Kim smiled at him, opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. "Nick, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." He picked a few crumbs up from his plate with the tip of one finger.

"Did you always want to be a music teacher? Like, did you just _know_?"

"Yeah," he said, slowly. He looked at her. "That or a guitarist, and that didn't happen, so. Yeah. Why?"

"Well, it's just – I mean, I've kind of talked to Ty about this, and Brit, but not really like." She turned to him, earnest, and said, "Nick, if I tell you something, will you promise not to repeat it?"

"Yeah, yeah of course," he nodded.

"It's just that I – the weekend before the accident, I slept a lot, and Ty said my head was hot, like I was coming down with a fever or something, but I never did. And I – I've had these sort of," she paused. "I don't know, like just these moments, I guess, ever since I got fired."

"What kind of moments?" he asked, careful. She was worrying at her shirt, twisting and untwisting it between her fingers.

"It – I don't even know. Like one minute I'll be fine, the next I'm crying and I feel like everything's falling apart. They don't last long, they've mostly been at like, four in the morning or something, but I've had a couple in front of Tyson and I think he's worried. And – and _I'm_ worried. I didn't have any in the hospital, but I've had them every day since I came back." She looked at him, helpless. "I don't know what to do, and I _really_ don't want to worry Brit or Ty, y'know, but I. I don't know what's _wrong_ with me."

Nick put his plate on the table, moved over and put his arms around her. She didn't cry, but her breath hitched a little and she hugged him back. "What was it about getting fired that upset you?" he asked into her hair, taking a chance that it was the right question. He'd had practice with crying women, since all his best friends had been female; he was the only guy he knew who'd learned from the age of fifteen when to shut the fuck up and hand the chocolate over, and when to stick around and just wait for the inevitable talking.

She laughed slightly damply. He pulled back to see that her eyes were wet, so he hunted around for a box of tissues and handed it to her. "Well, there's the getting fired part," she said.

He didn't reply, just kept on looking at her and waiting. She sighed.

"I guess it was … I'd worked there for almost two years, you know? I _liked_ it there. My bosses were nice, the work wasn't bad, it was something to – it was a good job."

"And?"

She stared at him. "Shit, you're good at this." When he didn't say anything, she added, "And I didn't have to go to any stupid auditions."

"You already had a job," he suggested, slowly, watching her closely just in case he was wrong, "so it didn't matter that your career dried up?"

She was perfectly still for a minute, and then she sort of crumpled right in front of him. He thrust a tissue at her as she started to cry, and moved round to hug her again. "Sorry," she said between hiccups, "sorry, I just."

"It's okay," he soothed. "Is that what's wrong?" He was at a loss, but hoped his voice at least sounded reassuring.

"No, not the – not the career dying, no, that –" She curled up and blew her nose, so he went back to the couch. "I loved my job. It wasn't what I wanted to do forever, but when I got fired I thought, now I can audition more, but – but I don't think I _want_ to be an actress any more, Nick. I don't _want_ to be a model, I don't – I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, what I want to _do_ with my life, but I – I don't want that again, I _don't_."

"Hey, hey, it's alright. You don't have to do that shit, it's okay." Nick wished he could do something with his hands, anything to at least feel more useful.

Kim blew her nose again. "I'm sorry, I know this is – it's all stupid, but I'd feel like I was letting Ty down if I told him. We started out together, you know? I met him on his first job, I helped him out when I was doing okay, he helps me out now. We have each other's _backs_, you know? And we're kind of … in it together. So if I'm not – if our lives go so different, I just." She wiped at her eyes with the tissue, crying subsided now. "I'd just miss it, you know? It's us against the world, it's always been that way, partners in crime –"

"You won't lose Ty, Kim, no way. I don't even _know_ him and I know that."

She smiled weakly at him. "Thanks, Nick. I guess I just, I know I've been worrying over nothing, but. I don't know what I'm going to _do_ now."

"Well." Nick thought for a minute. "What do you _like_ to do?"

"Paint," she replied instantly. "I mean, I – I'm not great, and I can't draw like Rob can, but I like playing with colours and patterns and textures. It's kinda – comforting, I guess."

Nick nodded. "Art therapy? My sister did that in college. There's probably a centre somewhere here, there'll be classes. Maybe you should try that, teaching it some day?"

"Huh." She considered. "Art therapy. Yeah, I'll – I'll think about it. Thanks, Nick."

"Hey, any time. Just glad I could help." He patted her hand affectionately. "And talk to Ty and Brittany, okay? Tell them what's been going on."

"Okay, I – yeah, I will." Kim looked up at the clock and said, "Brit should be getting home soon, her boss said he'd only need her until three."

"I'll leave you two to talk, then," he said, standing up. He took the plates into the kitchen and stacked them in the dishwasher. "Are you okay now?" he asked, when he returned to grab his jacket from the chair he'd flung it over.

"Yeah. Thanks, you've been amazing today." She kissed his cheek when he leaned over to hug her.

"You're welcome. Um, say hey to Ty when he gets in, okay?"

Kim snorted. "_If_ he gets in tonight. He was out with this dolly grip from the set yesterday, said they might hit a bar tonight after work. I'm not expecting him back."

Nick blinked. "Oh. Right. Uh. Well, when you see him."

"Sure. I'll see you soon, Nick."

"Yeah. Right, yeah."

He closed the front door behind him and walked to his car, feeling a little like he was sleepwalking. He drove home to find Robyn and Toad making out in the kitchen, despite it being three thirty and usually by that time they were heading over to Toad's.

"Oh – uh, hi Nick," Robyn said when she finally became aware of his presence. "We figured you were out, so –" She stopped, and looked at him properly. "Are … you okay?"

"Tyson, uh." Not much sound was coming out, so Nick cleared his throat and tried again. "Tyson's seeing this guy, the uh. The something grip, some crew thing on the movie I guess."

"Are – do you want us to leave you alone, do you need –"

"Wafers," he interrupted her. He said it quietly, but she stopped like he'd yelled. "Do we have wafers?"

Robyn turned to Toad. "Kevin, go get a Muppets DVD. Doesn't matter which one – no wait, not Great Muppet Caper. Shit, not Muppet Movie either. Go with Treasure Island. Get it started up, I'll deal with the ice cream."

"I – okay." Toad disappeared, and Robyn turned back to Nick.

"We have a full tub of double chocolate and most of the Rocky Road left. Spoon, scoops or sundae?"

Nick felt an immense but remote sense of relief. She always knew what to do. "Spoon. Please."

She bustled around grabbing a few things from the cupboards, and pointed to the door. "Living room," she said, decisive, and marched him in there and over to the couch. She arranged the ice cream, spoon, syrup, sprinkles, wafers and a bag of marshmallows on the coffee table next to a perplexed-looking Toad, who handed her the remote. She gave it to Nick.

"What's, uh, what's going on?" Toad asked her, glancing at Nick as he hit 'enter' and grasped for the tub and the syrup in the manner a drowning man might grasp a lifebelt.

Robyn led Toad away, but Nick could still hear them over the sound of the opening score. "We have this gauging system," she explained, voice low. "If one of us is upset, the other provides ice cream and comfort viewing of varying degrees, depending on how bad the situation is. Something like feeling kinda crappy is, say, Doctor Who and a scoop of soya vanilla. D'you see?"

"Okay, yeah, I get it."

Robyn paused. "We uh. Muppets is for the major league shit. And _wafers_ …" She drew her breath in. "We haven't had a wafers-and-Muppets crisis since Mike left him."

"Wow. Shit." There was another pause, and Toad continued, "And the marshmallows?"

"We just had some today, I figured he could use some more sugar."

Nick had already dug out two spoonfuls of ice cream, and into the dent in the tub he poured syrup and sprinkles, one marshmallow sitting proudly in a heap of syrup. He stuck the corner of the wafer into the highest peak of the freezer-swirls in the ice cream and dug in for another spoonful.

"Hey, so Nick?" Toad called over, softly. Nick looked up. "We're gonna be in Rob's room if you need us, okay? If you do, just come and knock, alright?"

Nick nodded absently. The crocodile had started singing. He heard the living room door close and broke off a corner of the wafer to nibble when the lobsters came on the screen.

He made it through the next week mostly because of Robyn. Toad had obviously said something to the other guys, because not a one of them teased him about Tyson, and when he was teaching his classes, or guitar club, or band, or orchestra, he just lost himself in the music or the class itself. His favourite senior stayed behind after class to tell him she'd made it into a local band she'd auditioned for, and he had beamed at her with a rush of affection and pride, and told her he'd always known she could do it. When he got home from work, Robyn had already set the DVD player up, and she kept the freezer stocked. It was unspoken knowledge that Nick would do the same for her in a heartbeat, so he thanked her by buying her a huge box of chocolates and telling her to spend the weekend at Toad's. She had made him promise to call if he needed anything, but he drove out to the beach and took some long walks, ignoring his cell phone.

Tyson left a message, but he didn't listen to it. Kim called to ask if he was okay, but he just said he wasn't feeling great and might be getting sick, so was avoiding people in case they caught something. She said she hoped he'd feel better soon, and he said the same to her. He asked her if she'd talked to Brittany yet, deliberately not asking after Tyson too, and she said she had, and that when her leg was mended she'd be starting some art classes.

The beach walks seemed to clear his head, and it felt less like sleepwalking to get through Monday. He found that he didn't even need the wafers, and switched to eating cereal out of the box instead of having ice cream again. Though he did realise, when he went to bed, that he'd never switched his cell phone on after school.

He got a text from Kim the next day, asking if he felt any better, and suddenly he was hit with a wallop of guilt. He texted back with _Yeah thanks. Want me to come over this afternoon? I could make lunch again_. She replied with _Yes please. It'd be good to see you._

Kim waited until they had eaten, talking about the art classes she'd signed up for and how great Brittany had been about the whole thing – "You were right, they were both really worried, so when I told them what was going on they just said is that _all_ and I should do what makes me happy" – before settling back and saying, "Okay, Nick, spill it. What's the hermit deal about?"

Nick shook his head. "I guess I just, felt shitty this week is all."

She watched him closely as she said, "It wasn't anything to do with what I said about Tyson last week, right? About him and the dolly grip?"

"Um." Nick examined the surface of the coffee table, hoping he wasn't going as red as it felt like he was.

"Oh shit, Nick – you should check your fucking messages more often." He looked up at her, and she said, "Ty isn't seeing that guy – I thought he was, but he said – oh for fuck's sake, listen to your fucking messages. Okay?"

"You – he _isn't_ seeing that grip guy?"

"Messages." She motioned to his pocket. "_Phone_. Wheeler."

"Right, uh, okay." He tugged his cell phone out of his pocket and thumbed through the menu until he found the 'check voicemail' option and hit the button.

The automated voice menu started up, and he pressed more buttons until it got him to his messages. There were three.

"Nick, hi," Tyson started the first one. "I just uh, Kim said she thought, when I talked about that – uh, I guess I don't know why I'm … calling to tell you that I'm not seeing anyone, because we're just friends, right? But uh. Well, I just wanted to set the record straight, I guess – I'm not seeing that dude, I'm not seeing any dude. So. Just so we're clear on that."

The menu voice crashed in again, and Nick pressed the button for the next message. It was from Kim.

"Hey Nick, I just wanted to call and say I hope you're feeling better. Ty's got the night off tomorrow, I was thinking the four of us – I mean, us and Ty and Brit – if we could hang out, maybe I could somehow persuade you to cook, and we could watch a movie or something? We'd all love to see you."

The menu voice came in once more, and Nick pressed the button for the last message.

"I don't know what I did or why you're mad at me," Tyson said, sounding kind of upset, "but I don't like it. So talk to me, okay? Come over tomorrow night, please? We've never really had a chance, I guess, and I'd – I'd like us to have one. And you can take that any way that you want, but I'm hoping you'll take it the way that it's meant. So. I'll see you tomorrow, I hope."

Nick hung up and stared at Kim. "I – what did he mean, the way it was meant?"

Kim leaned over and flicked him on the head. "Idiot. What do you _think_?"

"But I –"

"Look. Nick." Kim looked him dead in the eyes and said, carefully and precisely, "Tyson is nuts about you. You, clearly, are nuts about Tyson. He _hasn't slept with anyone_ since the night he met you. I have never known that to happen in his _life_. Would you buy a fucking clue already and just give him a chance?"

"But he – he doesn't date. And."

"He hasn't found anyone he _wants_ to date before now. But he wants to date _you_, dumbass."

"But," Nick voiced his one last hurdle, "I don't _know him_."

Kim paused for a moment, until she was sure he was looking at her, and then she started to speak. "When he was five years old, his dad moved out to California and married his stepmom. He played football in school and he got good grades so his parents wanted him to go to college, but all he ever wanted was to be on stage. When he was a kid, he climbed trees and wrote words he found in books and liked all over his notebooks. I found one last year that had 'effanineffable' and 'balderdash' on the front page. His dad and stepmom moved to Oregon when he was eighteen, but he was already working as a model so he stayed here, and he moved in with me after a while. We met on a perfume commercial, and the first thing he ever said to me was 'Do you think they really do put the essence of terracotta and sunsets into that Terracotta Sunset lipstick?' He was seventeen. He's waited tables, cleaned pools, blown casting directors and worked fucking hard to get where he is, and it means a lot to him. And last year, the lease on this apartment came up and the owner said he was selling it. Tyson had just been paid for a huge job, and he didn't tell me until afterwards, but he bought this place for me. It's just an apartment to him, a really nice one but nothing special, but to me it's – this is my _home_. I love this apartment, so he bought it. If he loves you and he has a big enough net, he'll get you the fucking moon if you want it. _That_ is who Tyson is."

Nick was silent for a minute when she'd finished speaking. "I, um." He cleared his throat. "When did you leave that message?"

"Last night."

"So Tyson … has tonight off?" He looked at the clock.

"Yeah. He should be here in a few hours."

Nick stood up. "I," he said, "will be back."

The apartment was empty when he got home, but then school had only been over for a half hour. He flung himself at his wardrobe, grinning at the picture of Socks McGee, and started pulling shirts and pants out at random.

Robyn got home fifteen minutes later, and called out, "Nick? You in?"

"Yeah, come in here a second," he called back, standing with two pairs of pants in his hands. He turned to her when she appeared in the doorway and said, "Do you think lace-up pants would be a bit much, or are they just convenient?"

"I – what?" Robyn blinked at him, confused. Toad appeared in the doorway behind her.

"Toad – you're about to get laid. Do you wear lace-up pants and no underwear for convenience, or is it too much assumption? There'll be dinner first."

"You could never assume too much with Tyson. Wear them." He grinned. "I take it you two made up?"

"He's not seeing that guy, he's not seeing anyone, he wants to see _me_," Nick informed them, stepping forward and grabbing Robyn into a gleeful spin. She giggled and ended the spin in a hug. "I'm going over to cook for them, and Ty will be there, and he wants to date me, and you two can totally have the apartment tonight. I won't be home." He felt as if he could pretty much vibrate off the face of the earth. "Shit, I should take a toothbrush. Oh shit, I gotta _shower_."

"How about we leave you to get ready," Toad said. "Rob, we could go for a drive or something?"

"There's a really nice place I haven't been in a while, you can see the sea," she replied. "Come on, I'll take you." She hugged Nick again and whispered, "Good luck."

A shower, three clothes-decision changes and a stop for ingredients later, Nick rang Kim's doorbell again. It was answered by Brittany, who ushered him inside.

"Ty's not here yet," she said, "he called to say he'd be working late. He won't miss dinner," she added quickly, "and he doesn't know you're here. We figured you could surprise him."

"Okay." Nick could not keep still. "Okay. I'm gonna go get started, this'll take me a little while."

Brittany handed him a glass of wine. "We're watching a movie, come join us when you can."

Nick got to work slicing, measuring, mixing and rolling. He greased a baking tin, pre-heated the oven, stirred ingredients together, laid them in layers carefully, and finally shut the oven door and started the timer. He diced vegetables and checked the progress of the baking, and then he grabbed his glass of wine and headed to the living room.

Fifteen minutes after he had settled into the cushions next to Brittany, the front door opened and Tyson walked in, saying, "Something smells g-" He stopped when he saw Nick. "Um."

Nick unfolded himself, put down his wine, stood up, crossed the room, stopped in front of Tyson, and breathed, "Hi." Then he leaned in and kissed him.

It took Tyson a split second to react, during which he let out a tiny sound, but then he started kissing Nick back. He had kissed him before like it was a victory, and like he could devour him; but this time, Tyson kissed him like he wanted to savour it. He gently held Nick's face between his palms, the pad of one thumb stroking the skin just under Nick's ear, and Nick felt like he was melting, his entire body turning to tingles as though his skin were waking up.

He was dimly aware of cheering coming from the couch, but he was so wrapped up in the smell and feel and taste of _Tyson_ that he took no notice. There was stale coffee on Tyson's breath, stubble on his chin, and some kind of greasy residue from product in his hair, but Nick didn't care because it was the most perfect kiss he had had in a long, _long_ time.

The timer in his hand went off, and he broke away. "I have to, uh," he started, voice hoarse, "I have to go cook now."

"Okay," Tyson breathed. "Okay."

* * *

"Oh my God, this smells _so good_," Brittany inhaled when Nick served up. Kim took a bite and her eyes rolled back; she gave him a thumbs up, chewing with enthusiasm. Nick ducked his head and tried not to blush, sneaking a look at Tyson, who was just putting his fork into his mouth.

Tyson emitted a small groaning sound. Nick hoped his laces would hold up at least until dinner was over. "Please," Tyson said when he had swallowed, his voice shades of a moan but definitely different from his seductive tone, "stay. Just – you're wearing _lace-up pants_ so uh, I guess you're planning to, but _please_. Stay."

"Should we … leave you two alone?" Brittany grinned at them. Nick was definitely blushing now.

"I am not leaving this food." Kim pointed her fork at Brittany. "They can fuck on the floor if they want, I am _eating this_."

"Yeah, but," Brittany sidled closer and tugged on Kim's earlobe with her teeth, "if we took it to the bedroom, we could eat it there in privacy. And I," she added, voice dropping so it was obviously meant to be heard just by Kim, and Nick _tried_ not to hear it but the sound reached him anyway, "don't mind eating it cold."

Kim grabbed her plate. "See you later," she said, almost tripping over her crutches. Brittany took the plate out of her hand, and led her out of the room.

"Wow." Nick swallowed, piling up his fork and dumping the food back onto the plate, nervous. "That uh. Wow."

"Brittany's evil," Tyson informed him. "You know, Kim used to be this innocent cute little Texan girl. I sort of corrupted her, but _Brit_ … well, I guess with our combined forces, she had no hope."

"No hope of survival," Nick agreed a little faintly. He was suddenly very aware of being alone with Tyson. The sexual tension that had hung around the table at the Thai restaurant had aggressively bared its teeth at him, but this time the tension gave him a sheepish smile and tilted its head at where Tyson was taking another bite.

"You gonna eat?" Tyson was watching him. "I hear your food's an aphrodisiac." He gave him a smile that was wearing a headband with horns stuck to it, a red barbeque fork hanging off its back by a string. Nick put his piled-up fork into his mouth and chewed.

"Hey yeah, this isn't bad," he appraised. Tyson laughed a little and shook his head into his food.

"You can relax, by the way," he added. "I'm not going to – I want to do this right, you know? Let's just, let's have dinner."

Nick hadn't realised he was slightly hunched up. He let go of the tension and instantly felt a whole lot better. He took a sip from his wine glass; the bottle on the table was one of his Cabernet Sauvignons, he noticed. "Sorry. I guess I just, I mean – I'm a little nervous," he admitted, the words scrambling to come out before he could stop them. "You were kind of intense, before."

"Was I?" Tyson looked thoughtful as he swallowed a mouthful of wine.

"Yeah, you kind of – it was a little like you were acting, actually." Nick cleared his throat, wishing he could dig himself out of this conversational hole.

"Oh." Tyson was still looking thoughtful, and Nick decided not to say anything and just hope the silence would eventually close this avenue of discussion so another could open up. He had almost finished his glass of wine before Tyson spoke again. "I haven't dated before," he said, sounding like he was working up to something. Nick listened, keeping his eyes on Tyson's while he spoke except to dip them at his plate every now and then as he ate. "I guess it's different when you're _dating_, to just picking somebody up."

He said it like a stopping point, so Nick came in with, "It is, yeah." He paused, and then ventured, "Why _haven't_ you dated? If it's – if you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind. I guess just, when I started out modelling there were suddenly all these _guys_, and they were pretty but pretty doesn't last long. So we'd screw, and it was fun, and then we'd both move on. It kind of just … became habit, I guess." Tyson shrugged. "I'm not all that interested, beyond that, not until – uh." He blushed slightly and looked at his rapidly-emptying plate. "Not until you."

"Oh." Nick ate some more, for something to do with his hands.

"What about you? I mean, you're – why aren't _you_ dating some awesome dude? You're pretty fucking hot, you know," he appended. Nick almost choked.

"I'm – " He saw the look on Tyson's face and stopped the protest in its tracks. _Holy shit, he really meant that. This fucking gorgeous dude thinks I'm hot._ "Uh. I uh, hold on. What's my name again?" He gave him a slightly wry smile, thinking Tyson might laugh, but instead he just moved closer.

"Your name is Nick," he murmured, voice low but entirely different from the seduction act of before. This didn't feel like a voice he was putting on; it was Tyson, just huskier. Nick shifted in his seat. "And for some crazy reason, you're not dating anyone. Except that I kind of hope you're uh, dating me. Or – or will be. I'm Tyson," he added as Nick opened his mouth to speak, "and I'm going to be kissing you now."

Nick might have said something, if he felt like his throat was working, but Tyson caught his open mouth before he could start. So he kissed him back, and Tyson tasted fucking _good_, and his skin felt nice where Nick was inching his fingertips under Tyson's shirt. Tyson shivered at the contact, and Nick pressed closer, splaying both palms on Tyson's sides. Tyson groaned slightly into his mouth.

"That," he breathed, air puffing across Nick's cheek, "yeah. Keep uh, keep doing that."

"'Kay," Nick stuttered. Tyson's hands were resting on his hips, and he was finding it hard to concentrate. Tyson kissed him again, hungrier, exploring with his tongue, and Nick moaned, moving his hands up a little. Tyson shivered again.

"Can we," he exhaled, a hitch in it, "I don't want to – rush you or anything but can we forget about the rest of dinner, or eat it later, or – _fuck_," he hissed as Nick's hand made contact with a nipple. Nick circled it with a fingertip. "Fuck, Nick, you're wearing _lace-up pants_," Tyson repeated desperately.

"This stuff tastes good cold," Nick said, by way of an answer. Tyson pulled him up quickly and made to grasp for his arm, but changed the movement in the middle and took his hand instead. Nick smiled at him, and Tyson smiled back.

Tyson's bedroom was large, airy, with a nice view, and it looked like a _stuff_ bomb had gone off in it. He darted around, picking up clothes and depositing them on a chair, shuffling magazines onto the top of a stack of boxes, as Nick looked around and tried to keep his expression neutral. "Sorry about the mess," Tyson apologised quickly. "I wasn't expecting you to show up tonight, or I – uh, well I didn't want to clean and then you not come, y'know?"

Nick stopped him as he rushed past. "Your sheets are clean, right?" he asked, though not without confidence as to what the answer would be. Tyson nodded. "Then leave the rest."

"Okay." Tyson put a few books back onto the shelves, piled in every which way, and took Nick's hand again. He sat him down on the bed and leaned in, his mouth a millimetre away when Nick suddenly said,

"Socks."

"What?"

Nick undid his shoes quickly. "Now's a good time to get the socks off, right?" Tyson watched him remove his shoes and socks and sit back again.

"Are you doing a very weird striptease?" he asked, half his mouth curving up in a smile. It was really fucking cute.

"No, I just … don't want to end up a naked dude in socks. You know?" Tyson had opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped, as though he'd suddenly lost concentration. "D'I lose you somewhere?"

"Uh. The naked part." Tyson rested one hand on Nick's hip again. "That can be an actual thing that happens now, right, not just something I keep picturing?"

Nick blushed a little. "Yeah." He was surprised to hear how rough his voice sounded, like it had stepped in nut husks. He yanked Tyson's shirt over his head and ran the pad of his thumb over a nipple. Tyson sucked his breath in, and then he leaned in again and kissed him, hard and hungry. Nick moaned as he was gently tipped back, settling against the pillows, Tyson undoing the buttons on his shirt one at a time. He dipped his head down to follow them, kissing Nick's chest in a downward progression until he got to the last button and licked a long stripe up Nick's stomach.

Nick squirmed. Tyson grinned up at him and then dipped his head again, wriggling further down the bed so his head was level with Nick's waist; and then he leaned in and took the end of one of the laces on Nick's jeans between his teeth and pulled.

Nick owned two pairs of lace-up pants. He presumed their function was convenience – no zips to get stuck or buttons to fiddle with – but now, he thought that maybe they had another use. That of _melting his brain_ as he watched Tyson undoing them in seconds _with his teeth_. He mutely lifted his hips as Tyson tugged on them, pulling them all the way off and throwing them into a corner of the room. He looked up at Nick from a proximity to his knee, and Nick looked back, breathing hard.

"You're not wearing," Tyson mouthed, barely a sound coming out, "any underwear."

"Yeah, I – I know."

Tyson pressed his mouth to the skin just above Nick's knee. He pressed kisses up the inside of his thigh until he got half way up, when he pressed the flat of his tongue to the skin and licked up the rest of the way. Nick whimpered. Tyson did the same with the other thigh, kisses half way and then a lick right up to where leg met hip. Nick squirmed again as Tyson's tongue made a slow, agonising progress inwards from his hip. Tyson flicked his tongue out at the shaft of Nick's cock, three times, just so the tip touched it, and Nick hissed each time. Then Tyson settled his mouth onto the tip and moved down, wrapping a hand around the base, and Nick closed his eyes.

It took an enormous effort not to come right then. Tyson's mouth was hot and wet, his fingers were pressing and stroking a little at the base, and it had been two fucking _years_ since Nick had last had a blowjob. But he managed, somehow, to hold on as Tyson sucked, as he did something pretty amazing with his tongue, as he scraped oh so lightly and oh so fucking perfectly with his teeth. His free hand cupped Nick's knee, and Nick was suddenly aware of the sensation of it there, skin contact, and tingled.

Tyson sucked harder and Nick couldn't hold out much longer. He grasped at the sheets and groaned, "Fuck, _fuck_, Ty, I'm not gonna la–" but Tyson fucking _hummed_, or maybe he moaned; all Nick knew was there were vibrations and he just couldn't hold off any more, so he came, arching off the bed and groaning loudly.

Tyson let his cock out of his mouth with a slight wet sound as Nick lowered himself back onto the sheets. Tyson swallowed, keeping his eyes on Nick's, pupils blown to fuck, panting a little. "Holy fucking shit," he murmured, crawling up Nick's body. "That was _so fucking hot_, oh God."

Nick just reached for him, pulled him closer and kissed him. He tasted himself on Tyson's tongue, and gently rolled him over onto his back. "Here," he breathed, unzipping Tyson's jeans as quickly as he could, "lift."

Tyson obediently lifted his hips, and Nick got rid of his jeans and underwear for him. Nick stroked his palms over Tyson's thighs; Tyson writhed. "Fuck," he exhaled, squirming and looking at the ceiling.

"Now, I'm not good at all that teasing shit you did," Nick informed him, hands moving up, "or at least, not right after orgasm." Something about the way he said it, or possibly the word itself, made Tyson moan softly, his face a desperate plea. "But shit, I figure you don't need it," Nick breathed. He sank his mouth down onto Tyson's cock as he went to speak, and whatever words Tyson would have said ended up a jumbled sound that escaped all at once. Nick wrapped one hand around the base of Tyson's cock and then, shifting into a more comfortable position and hoping neither of his arms would protest too much, he stroked Tyson's balls with a fingertip, slowly working back in tiny circles.

Tyson was already breathing hard and whimpering, but when Nick eased one finger into his ass, slowly, carefully, Tyson hissed and bucked off the mattress. Nick had to pull his mouth off to avoid gagging, but when Tyson had settled back he sucked again, earning a moan and a whimpered, "Fucking hell, Nick, _fuck_." He thrust the finger in further, searching – he knew he'd found the right spot when Tyson suddenly arched, groaning and shaking. He came two seconds later, moaning, "_Fuck_ Nick _fuck_ Nick _Nick fuck_."

Nick concentrated on swallowing for a minute, careful not to choke or make a face. His shirt was still on, though open, so he pulled it off and tossed it in the direction of the chair.

Tyson stared at him. "You got tattoos," he said, breathing not quite returned to normal yet. Nick glanced down at his own arms.

"Oh – yeah, my Electric Mayhem. The uh, the Muppet band, you know? And that one's Queen," he indicated the other arm, "and," he turned around, "that one's a Bon Jovi tour shirt, the other's a Def Leppard album cover." He flopped back onto the pillows next to Tyson. "You got any?"

"Can't," he sighed, his voice the picture of envy. "I mean, I guess I could _some_ day, but it needs too much make-up for shooting and shit, my agent said it'd be best not to." He reached over and traced the bus on the Muppets tattoo. "These are so hot, dude."

"Yeah?" Nick thought they just looked kind of nerdy, in a way he was totally okay with being; but hey, if Tyson thought they were hot, he wasn't going to argue.

"Yeah," Tyson insisted, shifting until he could reach to trace the patterns with his tongue. It felt good.

"Well _that's_ new," he muttered, as the tip of Tyson's tongue traced and traced. Tyson looked up at him.

"Uh. I like tattoos," he said, sheepish. Nick shrugged.

"It's okay, it just – haven't met someone who liked 'em before." He decided he liked that Tyson liked them.

"They're hot," Tyson murmured, moving his mouth over Nick's shoulder, "and you just got like, eight thousand times hotter for having them." He paused. "Muppets, though?"

Nick shifted. "I like the Muppets, ain't nothin' wrong with it. They are quality entertainers, my friend. Especially the Electric Mayhem."

"Who's your favourite?" Tyson's legs were slowly tangling with Nick's, and they were just settling together, skin to skin. It was pleasant.

"Dr Teeth. Who's yours? I mean, if you have one."

Tyson shrugged. "Never really thought about it. I guess maybe Gonzo."

"Yeah, Gonzo's pretty badass. I do wonder about the chickens, though."

Tyson looked up at him from his shoulder. "Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"You are so fucking cute. I thought you should know that."

Nick tried not to blush. "If you say so."

"I _do_ say so." Tyson poked him in the arm and then draped it across his chest. "You wanna go finish dinner now?"

"Okay. I'm pretty hungry," he admitted. Tyson offered him a pair of sweatpants, so he decided to put them on and forego a shirt. Tyson did the same.

"So how long have you known Robyn?" he asked, when they were back at the table and partaking of cold leftovers. Which did, as Nick had suspected they would, taste rather good. "You know about me and Kim, so. What about _your_ girl?"

"She's pretty much like a second sister," Nick explained around a mouthful. "We grew up together in Oklahoma –"

"Oh yeah, I recognise the accent. I was born there."

"No way! Huh."

"Yeah, m'dad's one of those weird Oklahoma boys who got out. There aren't many of them." Tyson grinned at him.

"Me and Rob did too," Nick said, cleaning up the last of the food on his plate. "And Mike, but he wanted to go back. Guess he won't now, but. I don't know, maybe."

"Who's Mike?" Tyson sipped his wine, looking politely interested. Nick took a deep breath.

"My ex. We uh, we moved out here together. Robyn let me live at her place after Mike left me for my yoga teacher."

Tyson winced. "Oh, ouch."

"Yeah, and I teach the guy's kid now. Well – nephew, but Chris is like, his legal guardian, so."

"Oh. That … must be awkward." He said it tentatively, as though afraid of opening a can of worms.

Nick shrugged. "It's a little weird, I guess, but we're all friendly and shit. We couldn't be _friends_, I don't think, but. Yeah. It's okay."

"How serious were you and Mike?"

"Uh. Well. Pretty serious, I guess. That was the only time I've been in love, so – yeah. Pretty serious. We lived together and shit."

Tyson seemed to be getting smaller. "Oh," he said, quiet. "Sorry, I mean – for bringing it up."

"No, it's okay, it was a couple years ago. I'm good." Nick poked his arm to get him to look up, and then gave him a smile. Tyson gave an awkward one back. "Besides, I got this new boyfriend now, and I like him a whole lot." The smile on Nick's side widened, but Tyson's just wavered. "Hey," Nick leaned closer, bumping their shoulders together, "I mean you, doofus."

"I know." After a beat, Tyson brightened. "You wanna go make out on the couch?"

Nick laughed. "Okay." He took the plates into the kitchen, where he almost bumped right into Brittany, who was rummaging in the fridge.

"Oh hi," she said, pulling the shirt she was wearing over her bare legs as much as she could. "Tyson," she called as Nick shot her a smile and sidled past to put the plates in the dishwasher, "I'm taking the whipped cream, okay?"

"Saucy minx," Tyson called back. "What if we wanted trifle?"

"Tough cookies," Brittany called, grinning at Nick. "We'll try to keep it down," she said, and skipped out of the room.

Nick stuck his head into the living room. "_Do_ you want some dessert?"

Tyson just patted the seat cushion next to him. "I was kind of hoping to have some Wheeler for it," he grinned, and Nick felt his cheeks crack into a spontaneous matching grin as he crossed the room.

"Is that so?" he mused, making as if to sit on the couch but at the last moment swerving and draping himself over Tyson's lap. "Whoops," he almost batted his eyelashes. "Must have slipped."

Tyson laughed, hands automatically going to hold him up, waist and back. "You're smooth, Nicky. Smooth with a capital _smoo_."

"Hell yeah I am," Nick murmured, his mouth inches from Tyson's. He leaned forwards and caught Tyson's smile with his own. He tasted like good wine and good food and the faint tang of recent sex, and something just perfectly Tysonish. Nick explored his mouth, slow, lazy movements, as Tyson's fingertips ran up and down his spine. The touches made him shiver and whimper into Tyson's mouth, which in turn made Tyson groan in little snatches of sound, shifting against Nick's thigh. He could feel Tyson getting hard again, and ran his hands up and down Tyson's chest, paying particular attention to every patch of skin that made Tyson shiver when touched.

"Do you want to," Tyson breathed, an indeterminable amount of time later, "go back to bed?" He caught Nick's mouth again before he could answer, kissing him hungrily, and Nick groaned. He was hard again now, from the touches and the warmth and Tyson's tongue and the tiny sounds he was making.

"Yes," Nick exhaled, and it sounded like pleading. "_Fuck_ yes."

They brushed their teeth in turn, and Nick took off the sweatpants and got into bed while Tyson was in the bathroom. He felt unaccountably nervous; they'd already _had_ sex, sort of, and they'd seen each other naked, so all the usual insecurities didn't apply. Although, a tiny voice at the back of Nick's head piped up, he _has_ had an awful lot of sex in his time. With a lot of probably promiscuous models and actors and crew folk, so how's a high school teacher from the Midwest going to measure up?

Nick swallowed, and gave a slightly awkward wave when Tyson came back. He just dropped his pants, got into the bed, and Nick said, "Hi."

"Hey there sugar," Tyson winked, sidling up. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Uh. Yeah, fancy." Nick hoped he wouldn't keep play-acting. He'd been fine before, so Nick just reached out and touched Tyson's hip, splaying his palm there. Tyson angled into the touch.

"Mm. Feels nice," Tyson murmured, inching his mouth closer.

"Yeah?" Nick's breath quickened the closer Tyson got. "How about if I …" He moved the hand, splaying it this time on Tyson's stomach. Tyson hissed his breath between his teeth.

"That, yeah. Feels _great_." His eyes were sliding closed, and Nick kind of just wanted to _watch_, because holy fucking shit it was hot when Tyson's head tipped back like that. Nick pressed a kiss to his neck, and Tyson shivered. "Fuck, fuck yes."

"And what about if I …" Nick rolled them gently over and settled on top, to an accompaniment of appreciative groans from Tyson. Their bodies connected, legs and chests and pelvises, and both hissed and arched their necks as their cocks pressed together.

"Fuck," Tyson whispered, "fuck, the lube's in the drawer, there are condoms there too, please Nick, _fuck me_." He squirmed, and Nick was entirely incapable of movement and thought for a good four seconds. Then he dived for the drawer, extracted the items in question, and dropped the lube into Tyson's outstretched hand. He unwrapped a condom and rolled it on while Tyson got himself prepared; Nick made to take the lube from him, but Tyson shook his head and did something with his hand. His neck arched, and Nick couldn't resist licking a line up it. Tyson groaned against his tongue.

"That is so fucking hot," Nick murmured, watching as Tyson finished preparing himself. He slathered lube onto both palms and wrapped them around Nick's cock, pulling gently. Nick bucked into the touch and dropped his head to bite just slightly at Tyson's shoulder. Tyson whimpered and capped the lube.

"Okay," he said, "I'm ready, you're ready, please, Nick, _please_, fuck me now." He spread his thighs and Nick tried hard to remember how his limbs worked and what he was supposed to do, because most of his brain was occupied with producing a long and unintelligible sound that he really hoped was not emitting from any part of his body. He heard himself groan faintly and was relieved to realise that was all that had made it.

He eased into Tyson, going slowly at first but faster when Tyson angled his hips up to meet him. He wasn't particularly tight, and squeezed around Nick when he was buried entirely; Nick panted, and slowly began dragging his cock out again.

"Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, please," Tyson muttered, his voice half a whisper and kind of broken, and the sound made the structure of most of Nick's brain cave in. The higher functions were definitely gone; the rest of it alternated between trying to assess the damage and telling him to just keep going and oh, yeah, go faster and harder, because that seemed like a good idea.

Tyson squirmed and bucked, and Nick concluded that it had been a very good idea indeed. He waited for more good ideas to occur, until a small voice whispered, He's not touching himself, you should probably be the one doing that, right? Nick looked down and noticed that Tyson's cock was, indeed, being _criminally_ overlooked, so he grasped it in one hand, the other steadying him against the bed and Tyson's body, and began jerking him off with rough strokes.

Tyson emitted a whining sound from somewhere in his throat. "Nick, fuck, Nicky," he panted, thrusting upwards with his hips, his neck arching back until Nick had no other _choice_ but to lick it, though it was difficult to reach _and_ jerk him off _and_ keep a good, hard, fast rhythm going. Tyson writhed all the more at Nick's efforts. "Shit, fuck, _Nick_," he moaned, arching his entire back, and Nick thrust in as hard as he could, as deep as was possible, and Tyson arched so hard he almost folded in two. "_Fuck_," he yelped, "fuck, fuckfuckfuck _Nick_," and then he came, bursting all over Nick's fingers.

Nick kept his hand on Tyson's stomach, sticky, and leaned down to lick at the skin under his ear. Tyson whimpered listlessly, and he squeezed around Nick's cock again, and Nick's mouth opened as he came and he just groaned, "_Ty_, fuck."

Neither of them moved for a minute, getting their breath back. Nick didn't want to pull out just yet, and Tyson didn't seem to want him to either. "Oh fuck yes," Tyson breathed at last. "I've kind of been desperate for you to do that since I saw you in the Thai place."

"Really?"

Tyson nudged their noses together. He was smiling, almost glowingly content. "Yeah."

Nick wrestled for eighteen seconds with the urge to say _So how did I compare, to all these guys you've slept with?_ He couldn't stop himself asking, "Was it okay?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tyson squinted at him, their faces too close for him to focus properly. "It was fucking _awesome_."

Nick felt better at that, so he said, "Oh. Good." He still didn't pull out, though.

"You wanna, uh. We could sleep?" Tyson suggested after a minute of silence.

"Oh – yeah. Right." Reluctantly, Nick pulled out. He disposed of the condom, and then he lay back down. Tyson was on his side, so Nick curled around and slung one arm over his waist.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

Nick paused. "Spooning. Do you – is this not okay, is it – what do you usually do?"

"No, no, this is okay, it – this is spooning?" Tyson was silent for a second, and Nick wished he could see his face. "Huh. No wonder they said it was nice." He nestled against Nick's chest, which Nick took as a good sign.

"Who's they?" he couldn't help asking. "Have you really not spooned before?"

"Well, it's not really a – no, not really. And 'they' are people who've been in relationships. I saw most of my friends go through shitty ones and figured it's only worth the hassle for someone pretty darn amazing. You know?"

Nick thought about that for a second. "And – and you think _I'm_ pretty darn amazing?"

Tyson looked over his shoulder at him and smiled. "I'm dating you, aren't I?"

Nick felt a little like he'd been flooded with something warm. "Yeah, yeah you are." He kissed Tyson's shoulder and they settled to sleep. Nick drifted off with Tyson's voice repeating _someone pretty darn amazing_ and _been desperate for you to do that since I saw you at the Thai place_ in his head.

The next thing he knew, light was trying to get in through the curtains but not quite making it, he was in an unfamiliar bed, and something wet and warm was sucking gently at his cock.

He woke up pretty fast, stopping just short of sitting up. He looked down, and saw Tyson looking back at him – and then the whole of the day before sidled back in and waved. His face burst into a grin and he dropped his head back on the pillow as Tyson's sucks became harder. He tried not to arch his hips up too much, and reached to run a hand through Tyson's hair.

Tyson hummed and smiled around his cock. Nick groaned. Tyson sucked harder, pressing and flicking with his tongue, scraping just very lightly with his teeth, and holy fucking _shit_ he gave the best head Nick had ever had in his _life_. He came a minute later, just after Tyson gave three short sharp sucks and two long, languid ones. He crawled up the length of Nick's body, swallowing as he went, and pressed a kiss to his clavicle. "G'morning," he beamed. "I gotta work, but I didn't want to just leave a note or something."

Nick groaned and yanked him closer for a kiss. "How long you got before you have to get up?"

"I already _am_ up," Tyson said into his mouth, and that was when Nick realised there was cloth against his skin. "But I guess I have a few minutes before I have to leave."

"What time is it?" Nick squinted over at the clock, and then looked back at Tyson. "Your hours are seriously fucked up, dude."

"I gotta be in makeup in forty minutes," Tyson murmured, licking up Nick's neck. "You gonna help me not have a boner all day at work, or what?"

Nick rolled him over onto his back. "What time do you get home tonight?" he asked, unzipping Tyson's pants. Tyson helped.

"Past midnight, probably," he sighed. "You sell your fucking _soul_ when you shoot a movie, I swear."

"Oh. Well, when are you free again?" Nick had got his pants and underwear down past his knees and was just contemplating Tyson's cock. His mouth watered. "Because I really want to fuck you again sometime soon, okay?" And he sank his mouth down.

"Fuck," Tyson hissed, bucking. "I think – uh, I think the next time I have any time off is um. _Fuck_," he exhaled in a rush, as Nick flicked with his tongue. "Is um, I have no fucking clue, _fuck_ Nick." He bucked up, and Nick held his hips down.

Tyson _squirmed_. Nick groaned, knowing the sound would go through him; Tyson squirmed even more, breathing hard and whimpering back in his throat. Nick twisted the hand that he'd put back around the base, the other still holding Tyson down, and Tyson let out a wordless moan and came.

"Shit," Tyson said after he'd got his breath back, "I have to go to work and _not_ think about that. Or about you fucking me again, or – shit, if I don't want a boner, I have to not think about you _period_."

Nick blushed. "Oh fuck dude, same here. Luckily, I wear long shirts to school."

Tyson glanced over at the clock and winced. "I really have to go," he sighed, pulling his pants back up. "I'll call you about when I'm free again, okay?" He reached over and kissed Nick, a lingering promise. Nick kissed back.

Tyson gave him one last look from the doorway, biting his lip and looking like he was trying to imprint the shape of a naked Nick between his sheets onto his eyelids. Then he was gone.

Nick stretched out and looked at the clock again. He had a half hour before he should get up and shower, if he wanted to head home before school.

He curled up, the pillow smelling like Tyson, and smiled.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Kim barely saw Tyson. When he came home from shooting, he crashed into bed, and he had to be in makeup again early the next (although it was usually early the _same_) morning. They left notes for each other on the fridge door, stuck there with large magnets to cover most of the writing; Brittany knew not to look, or at least to pretend that she hadn't.

The first one was left the morning after Nick stayed over, and it read, _Thank you for setting us up, I owe you big time. Nick's fantastic in bed. Hope you're feeling good today, T x_ and she had left one for him that night saying, _You're welcome hon, I'm just glad it worked out. When's your next time off? K x_

His answering note read _Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa what's time off? T x_ so she checked the schedule pinned up in the hall and realised that it was entirely full for six weeks. She wrote, _You gonna see Nick?_ He wrote back, _Not for a while, but I call him whenever they're setting up and they don't need me_. Kim wished she could hug him.

Her first art therapy class was a few days after her walking cast came off. Brittany had to work that night, but she called before Kim left to say good luck. They'd spent the past few days at Brittany's place, mostly so she could do laundry and remind her roomies that she was, in fact, alive. Kim had gone back to her apartment, checking that Mr Whiskers was okay (Nick had been in to feed him, and left a couple of notes in the kitchen – they were for Tyson, so she tucked them onto his pillow, figuring he probably hadn't seen them) and got dressed for the class.

It turned out to be a lot of fun. She ended up sitting next to a guy who'd lost his memory in a head injury (sustained by a basketball, of all things), who took her under his wing and got her caught up with the last few weeks' classes that she'd missed. Most of the other students there had either been sent by doctors or heard about the classes at the community centre. She and Ronnie the memory loss guy spent most of the class talking to a set of twins, one of whom was there because she thought it'd be a good way of getting over her boyfriend dumping her, and the other of whom was just there to support his sister. She went home after it humming, and made dinner while waiting for Brittany to get there, singing Beach Boys songs to Mr Whiskers.

It took another four classes before she realised that it was indeed fun, but she didn't really want to _teach_ it. She kept going to the class, though, because she got to hang out with Ronnie and Julia and Ricky for an hour every week, painting or sculpting or making collages, and she nearly always sang on the way home.

She got back from her fifth art class and found Tyson looking through the kitchen cupboards. "They let us out early tonight," he told her, reaching up for a jar of pesto sauce, "so I'm going over to Nick's. Is that okay?"

She hadn't seen him for a while, so she hugged him around the waist. "Alright. But you'll talk to me soon, right? I miss my boy."

"Aw honey, I miss you too." Tyson dropped his arms to return the hug. "Hey, how's art therapy and shit going?"

She let the air out of her cheeks. "Okay. It's fun, you know, I'm making some friends there, but it's … not really what I want to _do_. I still don't know that."

"But you're not freaking out about it any more, right?" Tyson sounded slightly worried. She squeezed him a little.

"No, not any more."

"Well, good. You don't _have_ to know just yet."

She squeezed him again. "Yeah. You know what I _do_ know, though?" She couldn't keep the grin from spreading over her jaw, so she hid it in his side.

"What?" he asked, twisting to look at her. She grinned up at him from his shoulder. "What, what, what is it?"

"I'm going to ask Brittany to move in," she announced.

Tyson whooped, grabbed her, and spun her around. She laughed, a bursting out of pure joy. "That's _amazing_, oh dude, that's _awesome_," he cried.

A voice from the doorway said, "She doesn't know what I'll say yet."

Kim looked up. "Brit – I didn't know you were home, I –"

"I just got in," she said, coming closer. Tyson tightened his grip imperceptibly, but then let her go. Brittany walked up to her, took her hand, and said, "I don't know what took you so long, I've been waiting for you to ask for like, months now. _Of course_ I will."

Kim pulled her closer. "Good," she breathed, and kissed her, feeling her whole chest turning to bubbles and air.

"Awww." Tyson was smiling at them when they broke apart again.

"Oh shush," Brittany rolled her eyes. "I'll be back in a minute, I just gotta get these work clothes off," she said to Kim, butterflying a kiss on her nose.

"You two are adorable," Tyson informed her when Brittany had left the room. Kim couldn't stop smiling. "Dude, what _happened_ to us?" he continued, looking at the jars of sauce in his hands. "You're moving in with your girlfriend, I've got myself a _boyfriend_."

"Yeah, how's that going? Have you seen him lately?"

"A few weekend nights. He stays up, I go over, y'know? _God_ I'm tired. Sometimes we just sit together on the couch and watch movies, and I fall asleep in like, a half hour. Or I'll get there and it's a miracle I didn't crash on the way, so he just lets me sleep. I don't think it's all that thrilling for him." He sounded subdued. She moved closer again and put an arm back around him.

"You've got two minutes to tell me what's up," she said, "or I'm getting Brit to help."

"You heartless bitch. Why do we always have to talk about our _feelings_?" he sighed. "Knew I should have had a dude for a best friend."

She thumped him on the arm. "Asshole. Just answer the fucking question. What's up with you and Nick?"

Tyson glared at her for a minute, but finally relented. "Alright, okay. But I'm only telling you so you don't get Brittany involved. That woman could get Russian spies to tell their secrets." He exhaled, leaning against the counter and not looking her in the eye. "It's just, I'm so fucking busy, you know? And I call him, and the couple times I've gone over and _not_ fallen asleep right away the sex is awesome, but it's just – he's used to _more_ than this. He's – he's been in _love_ before, you know? I don't even know how to be a good fucking boyfriend."

She watched what she could see of his face. "It bothers you, the Mike thing, doesn't it?" Tyson tried not to show it, but he winced slightly. She thumped him on the arm again.

"_Ow_, you bitch." He rubbed the offended arm. "What the fuck was _that_ for?"

"You're thinking about how you measure up to this big ex of his," she shook her head, "like it was some huge romance, this be-all and end-all crap. Don't be so intimidated, he's not going to be comparing – and if he is, then, he's with _you_ and he's _over_ Mike, so get the fuck over it and just do what you're doing. You _are_ being a good boyfriend, you ass."

"Did you get that out of your woman books, or does it just come naturally with oestrogen?"

"Little of both. Am I right?"

"No," he said, though he sounded resigned. "I'm going over to see my boyfriend before I turn into a fucking girl, okay? Have fun with Brit."

"Go have awesome sex," she called after him as he left.

"You too," he called, just as Brittany came back. She sidled up to Kim and wrapped both arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.

"I think that's a good idea, don't you?" she murmured, kissing Kim's shoulder.

"Yeah," Kim breathed in reply, shivering slightly at the contact. "Yeah."

* * *

The most Nick saw of Tyson before the shooting finished was one night he'd actually had off. He'd come over bearing sauces and they'd made pasta, laughing easily against the kitchen counters and bumping hips as they passed. The other times he'd come over, on weekend nights when Nick was still awake at three in the morning, Tyson had lasted less than an hour before crashing out.

Nick would never have told anyone, except perhaps Robyn if she'd asked, but he liked it when Tyson fell asleep. They were usually on the couch, leaning together, and Tyson would be on his shoulder. Nick would carefully and gently lie down, pulling Tyson on top of him, and run his fingertips through Tyson's hair, quietly watching the movie and the shadows made by Tyson's eyelashes. He counted them, once. (He got to fifty-seven before giving up.)

Then he'd nudge Tyson awake enough for them to move into bed, and they'd settle around each other when they got there. Nick slept easily on those nights, and Tyson nearly always woke him with a blowjob before he left. Once, Nick had stopped him in the middle of it, grabbed the lube, and fucked him quickly, Tyson arching and whimpering under him. "Told you I wanted to do that again soon," Nick had breathed, and Tyson had just moaned and kissed him _hard_.

Tyson's last night of shooting was a Wednesday, and he was due to finish at four am. He called Nick and said, "So, want to come over on Wednesday night? I won't get in until the morning, but I'd uh. I'd like you to be there when I do." Nick couldn't keep the grin off his face for two hours after he put the phone down.

He woke up on Thursday morning with the weight of Tyson's legs slung over his, Tyson's arm looped around his waist, and Tyson's head burrowing into his shoulder. He looked up at the ceiling, closed his eyes, and smiled.

Tyson slept late into the afternoon that day. When Nick went back after school, he answered the door blearily, wearing only a pair of loose pants and holding a can of coffee. "Hey," he said, rubbing the sleep out of one eye. His hair was falling every which way, two sections of it were sticking straight up, and his cheek still had pillow marks on it. Nick had never thought him cuter. "How was school?"

"It was good." Nick held up the two large cups in his hands. "I got you coffee, figured you'd need it."

"You are the best boyfriend in the world," Tyson exhaled, taking one of the cups and leading him inside. "Oh _yeah_ this is the good stuff," he exclaimed after a sip.

"Hey, I like my coffee good," Nick agreed.

"You have amazing taste," Tyson murmured, pulling him close by the belt loops. "Wine, coffee, food, clothes. Men."

"Even the ones with pillow marks and bed hair?" Nick teased, inching his mouth closer.

Tyson shrugged. "What's a little facial denting and awry hair between boyfriends? I'm still hot."

Nick fought down the urge to giggle. "Awry?"

"Yeah, awry. It's a damn fine word, I'll have you know." Tyson touched the tips of their noses together. Nick hoped his knees wouldn't give way.

"Hey," he murmured, nudging his mouth closer. Tyson was smiling when he kissed him. "So are you uh, you're awake now," Nick traced circles with a fingertip on Tyson's chest, "and you … have some free time?"

"All the free time in the world," Tyson breathed. "The wrap party's tomorrow night, d'you want to come?"

"Okay, yeah." Nick kissed him again, moving his fingers to trace circles on Tyson's hip. "We could have our own party right now," he murmured. Tyson shivered slightly.

"Brit's at work," he exhaled. "Kim's meeting this professor dude, says she's thinking of going to college. So they won't be back for a while."

"Good." Nick dipped his head to kiss Tyson's neck, and Tyson whimpered. "Because I want to fuck you, Ty," and Tyson groaned.

The wrap party was crowded and noisy when they got there. Tyson immediately headed in the direction of the bar, pulling Nick along by the hand to make sure they didn't get separated. Everybody seemed to know him (he was, after all, the star of the movie, so it made sense that they would) and their progress across the room took eight times as long as it should have because people kept stopping them to shake Tyson's free hand and tell him what a great job he'd done. Several of the men who shook his hand also winked at him and their fingers seemed to linger a little on his wrist, but Tyson would just smile warmly and say, "Have you met my boyfriend?"

The first six people he said it to laughed. After about twenty minutes, however, the news seemed to have made its way around the room like a breeze: Tyson Ritter has a boyfriend, that guy in the blue shirt he's with, yes, I heard he's a musician, well _I_ heard they met in a swimming pool, what's he doing settling down, oh it'll never last, Tyson Ritter with a _boyfriend_?

This last was said, rather loudly and a few feet away from where Nick stood with his beer, Tyson having been whisked away by the director for a private chat, by a woman with hair so rigid it should really have had a name and a driving license. Nick couldn't tell if she didn't know he was nearby, or if she was deliberately talking louder so he'd hear, but she continued, "I mean, take my brother for example. He was a good boy before he met _that man_, and now look at him." Nick glanced over to where she was looking; one of the guys who'd winked at Tyson was dancing energetically with another of them. Even from across the room, Nick recognised the flirting signs.

"Hi," said a voice by his shoulder, and he turned to see a tanned, good-looking guy smiling at him. "You're Tyson's boyfriend, right?" Nick nodded. "I'm Jason, I had a thing with him for a while. Well, I _say_ a while, really it was a night." Jason shrugged carelessly. "Anyway, I just wanted to come over and say hello, I saw you were all alone."

"Um. Thanks." Nick had a strong suspicion that he was being hit on. He wondered where Tyson had got to.

"So how long have you been seeing our good Mr Ritter then?" Jason asked, sipping his drink through a straw. Rather suggestively.

"Couple months," Nick replied, trying not to think of all the time during those months when their entire relationship had seemed to take place over the phone.

Jason's eyebrows rose. He leaned closer and said, voice lowered, "What's the secret? How did you keep him so long?"

"I –" Nick was thrown by the use of past tense.

"Many have tried, though none have but shown it," Jason intoned. Nick thought he had probably tried for sounding wise; he really hadn't pulled it off. "See Al over there?" Nick looked where Jason was pointing, and saw a guy in a yellow shirt. "He tried. And Johnny over there, and see those two guys making out near that tall woman in the heels? He had both of those at once." Jason made a fake shocked face, all raised eyebrows and open mouth. Then he leaned closer again and stage whispered, "I hear they nearly broke the bed." He winked, over exaggeration.

Nick tried to look vaguely interested while desperately flipping through possible ways to get out of this conversation in his head. "Er," was his contribution to it, but Jason seemed to need only a captive audience.

"And see him, and him, and that guy over there with the hair? They didn't really try, didn't even get a phone number. But _him_," Jason pointed to a man in leather pants and a shirt open to his navel, "he almost had Tyson, I swear. _Almost_ got him pinned down beyond one night, but like a butterfly getting pinned to a board, Tyson flitted away again." This sentence came complete with accompanying hand motion.

Nick stared around the room. "Is there anyone here who _hasn't_ fucked my boyfriend?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even but feeling like he could punch something.

Jason paused. He obviously wasn't used to questions, or at least not ones that required him to _think_ to form an answer. "What, in LA?"

Nick had to get away, and he had to get away _now_. Otherwise he would smack this dude in the fucking jaw. "I uh, excuse me. I just saw someone I know, I gotta –" He headed off towards the bar again.

Jason called after him, "He won't be pinned down forever, you mark my words." Nick concentrated very hard on not turning around and punching him. He needed another drink.

"Hey," he said, getting the barman's attention. "Another beer please." It was set in front of him, and he took a swig.

"Don't listen to Jason," a voice beside him said. Nick looked; the speaker was a fairly tall woman with smooth red curls and kohl-lined eyes. She was smoking a cigarette, and wearing a dress that matched both her hair and her lipstick. He recognised her, and realised she'd played Tyson's mother in the movie. She stuck her hand out. "Candy. I was sort of your boyfriend's mentor."

"Yeah, he talked about you. Nick." He shook her hand. "Is it true, what Jason said?"

Candy shrugged one shoulder. "Tyson's slept with a lot of the guys at this party, there's no denying that. But," she pointed the fingers holding the cigarette at him, "he lights _up_ when he's around you."

"Oh." Nick felt warm.

"Jason's just insanely jealous," she continued, blowing smoke straight up at the ceiling. "He's been after Tyson for months. He'll get bored soon enough, when a man comes along who's richer and better looking. No offence," she added, patting Nick's arm, "Tyson's very good looking."

"I know," Nick said absently. He'd just spotted Ty in the throng, still deep in conversation with the director.

"You're rather besotted," Candy observed. She sounded amused. Tyson saw them and held one finger up; he finished talking to the director a minute later and came over.

"I see you two have met," he said, slipping an arm around Nick's waist and kissing his hair. "Sorry I was gone so long, Don said he has this project coming up he thinks I'd be perfect for. We were setting up audition dates."

"That's awesome," Nick exclaimed, not noticing he was leaning closer until his elbow lifted off the bar.

"Didn't I tell you this would open doors?" Candy raked her eyes over him. "Stand up straighter, my boy."

"Yes, ma'am," Tyson grinned at her, slouching exaggeratedly. Nick got the feeling this was a running joke between them.

Candy laughed, and patted his cheek. "You'll do, my dear, you'll do." She turned a dazzling smile to Nick. "It was delightful to finally meet the man who's had my dear boy in such a state. I wish good luck to you both. Now if you'll excuse me, my husband should be around somewhere and I have to keep an eye on him."

Nick watched her sashay through the crowd. "Now _that_ is a Hollywood actress."

"Yeah, she's old school," Tyson agreed, audible affection in every syllable.

A little while later, the producer and the director called for silence, and they made some speeches about making the movie, referenced some in-jokes that were completely lost on Nick, and led a round of applause for the star and his leading lady. Tyson and the woman with the rigid hair went up to take bows and say a few words about what an honour it had been to work with everyone, and then Tyson and the producer cut the cake and discreet waitresses distributed pieces amongst the guests.

Tyson sidled up to Nick and presented him with the largest piece. "Stole this for you," he said, all rakish grin. A curl had fallen across his forehead, and Nick suppressed the urge to brush it back to join the others. He just took the cake and ate it, trying hard not to openly stare at Tyson too much. He realised he had spent a lot of the party doing that.

Nick left it until Monday evening – after two solid days of Tyson staying over at his place; Robyn had been at Toad's, so they had been free to have sex on the couch twice and in the shower once and a couple times in the kitchen – until he said, "Um, do you remember I talked about Jeff?"

"Yeah?" Tyson was sprawled out over him, and looked up from the vicinity of Nick's nipple.

"Remember he's getting married soon? The uh, the wedding's on Saturday, and I was wondering if you'd, uh, if you wanted to come with me. Um, to it." Nick tried to avoid Tyson's eyes, but there was sort of nowhere else he _could_ look.

"Yeah, that'd be great. I haven't been to a wedding since I was a kid." Tyson smiled up at him, and Nick shuffled down so he could kiss him, because Tyson looked so cute when he was all dishevelled and happy. It was a look he was wearing more and more as the lethargy from shooting ebbed out of him.

On Wednesday, when Tyson came over after school finished, he said, "Okay, I have no fucking clue what to wear to this wedding. Seriously, the last time I was at one, I was the ring bearer and I was _five_. Help me out? Please?" He pouted a little for good measure, and Nick just pulled him closer by the waist.

"How about I come over Saturday morning and help you pick something out?" he murmured, kissing along Tyson's jaw.

"Mmm, how about you're still there from Friday?" Tyson suggested. Nick smiled against his skin.

"Sounds good to me," he exhaled, yanking Tyson's shirt up and running his palms over his back.

So on Saturday morning, Nick woke up to the smell of brewing coffee and the sounds of Brittany singing "Who moved all the boxes? Oh wait that's right I did" to a cha-cha beat. He stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen.

"You still not unpacked yet?" he asked, looking in the fridge for the pineapple juice.

"Hey, I have a demanding job," Brittany answered, holding two mugs. She gulped from one. "And, y'know, a girlfriend. Who I have to go get back to." She danced out of the room, singing "Gonna give her coffee. Gonna read the paper" to the same beat. Nick poured out a glass of pineapple juice and stood by the sink, drinking it and looking absently out of the window.

A few minutes later he felt arms snake around his waist. "Morning," Tyson murmured, his chest connecting with Nick's back as he nuzzled Nick's hair.

"Hey," Nick replied, leaning back into the touch. "We should probably start getting dressed soon, it'll take us a while to get there."

They shared a shower, jerking each other off in the spray, wet kisses and cool tiles and taking turns to wash their hair. Nick had his outfit with him, so he got dressed while Tyson stood in front of the open wardrobe doors, drying his hair with the towel that had been wrapped around his waist.

"Okay," Nick said at last, joining Tyson in his contemplation of the wardrobe, "let's find you some clothes."

Tyson stepped back and spread his arms out. "I am a blank canvas," he boomed. "Paint me as you will, Wheeler."

Nick laughed. "Okay first, you need decent pants. So let me," and he began looking through the hangars, rummaging and considering and discarding, until he pulled out a good pair. "These will do," he tossed them to Tyson, who began putting them on. He didn't bother with underwear.

"Oh hey, I have some dress shoes, they should be at the bottom on the left," he called over. Nick dropped to the ground and started searching the wardrobe floor, moving aside shoeboxes filled with bills and several pairs of running shoes.

His hand connected with something of a very weird shape, so he pulled it out and looked at it. "Ty, what the fuck is this?" he asked, holding it up for inspection. It was a long lump of wood; or at least, at one time in its life it had been a long lump of wood. Now, however, it was completely mangled.

"That's my bedpost," Tyson said, searching in a drawer for some clean socks. "Kim and Brit gave it to me, and a penknife, so I just kind of. Notched it, you know? As a joke."

"Oh." Nick swallowed. He turned the bedpost over and over in his hands. "Wow, that's – that's a lot of notches."

Tyson shrugged. "Half of it's me carving when I got bored. I wanted to whittle an eagle, but I haven't the skill." He wiggled his fingers at Nick, grinning.

"Right." Nick attempted a laugh, but it came out half-hearted. He turned away to keep looking in the wardrobe, dropping the bedpost back onto the floor of it, and worked to keep his expression blank.

He found the shoes and selected a shirt, and when Tyson was dressed he held his arms out again and said, "Well? Do I look okay?"

"You look amazing," Nick breathed. He could hardly form sounds. Tyson's hair was falling artfully around his face without him even trying, his eyes looked clear and blue, and his cheeks were suffused with a smile that only waited for his mouth to catch up.

"Wow. I really _must_ look good." Tyson was gazing at Nick, head tilted to one side. Nick rallied himself.

"Come on, we'll be late," he said quickly, grabbing his phone and his keys. "Wallet, wallet –" It was sitting on the bedside table and he tucked it into his jacket. He hadn't raised his eyes back to Tyson, and he deliberately didn't now. "Okay, let's roll."

The wedding itself was beautiful. It was the full church, white dress, expensive flowers, bridesmaids in soft pastels, all the men in suits deal. Jeff had never beamed so much, and Nick almost got choked up watching him say his vows. John, who was sitting next to him, blew his nose and muttered something about hay fever.

The reception afterwards was held at a hotel, and there was both a free bar and a vaguely decent DJ, so Nick and Robyn watched with no small amount of glee as nearly every faculty member got completely wasted and danced with increasing vigour over the course of the afternoon. Toad whisked her away to dance, far enough away from the flailing limbs that they were safe from harm, and Nick watched them for a while, waiting for Tyson to get back from the bathroom.

When he realised two entire songs had played since Tyson had left, he decided he'd better find him. Maybe he had got lost, or been roped into some kind of drunken argument by the bride's brother, who had been hitting the free bar rather hard since they'd got there.

It took him a good few minutes, but he finally found Tyson out a little way into the gardens. Melissa was laughing loudly, pressing a hand to Tyson's chest and squealing, "Oh, _sto_-op, you're so naughty," and twinkling up at him.

Nick marched over and said, "I see you've met my boyfriend, Melissa?"

"Tyson and I were just getting better acquainted," she simpered, putting an arm around Tyson's waist and leaning closer to him. He shifted awkwardly, but smiled all the same.

"She's quite the charmer. I should look out," he said, and Melissa gently pushed him on the chest again with a high-pitched giggle.

"Oh _stop_." She fluttered her eyelashes and Nick thought, yes, please stop.

He took Tyson's hand and gently pulled him from her grip. "If you don't mind, I would like to borrow him for this next dance," he said, firm. Melissa just smiled at him, though not without barbs on the edges of it.

"Of course I don't mind," she twinkled, speaking entirely to Tyson.

"It was nice meeting you," he smiled at her as Nick led him away. When they got back inside and found a space on the dance floor where there was no danger of injury, he sighed, "Oh God, thank you."

"You were nice to her," Nick felt he should point out. "You didn't have to be, you could have just told her to fuck off."

Tyson wrinkled his nose. "She's a nice girl really, just … wasting her time trying to get in _my_ pants. They're already occupied." He grinned, and dipped one hand down to cup Nick's ass and give a little squeeze. "I wasn't flirting, just – being nice." He shrugged. "It didn't bother you, right?"

"No." It wasn't a lie. "Are you nice to everyone who hits on you?"

"What's the point in not being? They're only trying, why make it any worse for them that I'm taken?" He shrugged. "If you'd rather I tell them to fuck off, I'll try and be mean."

"No, it's okay, I didn't mean – I didn't think you were –" He stopped, because Tyson was just smiling at him, that smile that meant he'd be leaning in for a kiss any second. All of Nick's breath suddenly remembered it had to be elsewhere.

Tyson kissed him and a new song started playing. It was slow, and Tyson pulled him closer, hands on his waist. Nick laid his head on Tyson's shoulder and closed his eyes.

A small voice at the back of his head whispered, _Hey, in case you hadn't noticed – and I see from our records that you hadn't – you've been in love with Tyson since he walked up to you and said hello. Just keeping you up to date._ Then it fell silent again.

Tyson held him closer, dancing slow, and when Nick opened his eyes again Tyson was smiling softly at him. "You're so pretty when you close your eyes," he murmured, kissing Nick again, slow and soft. Nick's blood felt like it was turning to champagne.

When they got back to Nick's that night – Robyn and Toad had gone over to his place – Nick backed Tyson up against the bedroom door and kissed his neck, long wet open-mouth kisses, and he groaned, "Ty, I know we always – we fit, you like me on top, I like it too, but it – fuck, Tyson," he moaned against his skin, the scent of him driving him crazy, "I want you to fuck me."

Tyson shuddered and spread the palm of one hand flat against the wall. "Get off me a second or I'll come in my fucking pants," he breathed, and Nick obligingly moved away. Tyson breathed hard and said, "Fuck, do you know when the last time a guy asked me to fuck him was?"

Nick swallowed. "No."

"Me either." Tyson was still staring at him, hands flat against the door. "Fuck, it's no good, come get me off, _please_, I'll be like a second."

Nick moved forward faster than he'd thought possible, almost tearing Tyson's pants as he reached into them. He barely touched Tyson's cock before he came, neck arched up and looking at the ceiling. "Fuck," Nick groaned, nosing along his jaw again.

"I won't need long," Tyson panted, guiding Nick towards the bed, hands on his hips. "Just." The backs of Nick's knees hit the bed and he sat abruptly on it. "Let me," and he loomed over him, tipping Nick's head back and kissing him, hands moving to undo Nick's shirt. He moved slowly downwards, peeling Nick's clothes off piece by piece. When he was naked, stretched out on his back, and Tyson had thrown his own clothes off, he ghosted breath over Nick's cock and murmured, "How close are you?"

"Fuck. _Close_." Nick bit his lip and arched as Tyson pressed a line of kisses up the shaft. It was, as far as Nick could tell, Tyson's favourite thing to do, driving him crazy with light touches, lines of kisses, long flat-tongued licks, until Nick was squirming and whimpering and grasping handfuls of the sheets and _then_, finally, deliciously, he would sink his mouth onto Nick's cock and start sucking.

Nick came less than a minute after Tyson's first suck, and when Tyson crawled up the length of Nick's body and kissed him hungrily, Nick noticed that Tyson was hard again. Arousal stirred at the base of his spine, though his blood flow pleaded respite. Tyson kissed and licked along his clavicle and murmured, "Can I – please –"

"Yes," Nick answered, his own voice as hushed and desperate as Tyson's. "Oh fuck yes please."

Tyson groaned, and reached for the drawer. After a moment or two rummaging in it he dropped a lube bottle on the bed, and then dived back in. "Uh," he said after another minute, during which he had climbed off of Nick and moved closer to inspect the drawer, "you don't have any condoms."

"Shit, fuck, I forgot I gave Robyn my last ones." Nick tried to force his brain into coherency. It was difficult, but he managed enough to say, "But um, I got a check-up a couple weeks ago, I'm clean."

"I have them pretty regular," Tyson nodded. "Check-ups, I mean. I'm clean too."

"Well. Unless you're – I mean, it should be safe, right?"

Tyson looked at him for a minute, moved closer again, and nuzzled the tips of their noses together. "I'd never cheat on you, Nick. Okay?"

"Okay. Yeah, yeah I know. Me either, I mean, no way." He thought about saying it then, his chest suddenly feeling like it was taking a spin in the dryer, but he chickened out. "So I guess, I mean, we're okay not using them?"

"I guess so, yeah." Tyson uncapped the lube and slathered some onto his fingers. "You okay if I –"

"Fuck yes," Nick nodded, though his chest was still churning a little. Tyson eased his fingers into Nick's ass, slick, _nimble_, and Nick groaned, arching up and pushing onto Tyson's hand. Tyson planted kisses over his neck as he slid three fingers inside, moving them, and it felt fucking good. Nick tried to reach for the lube, return the favour, but Tyson shook his head.

"Gonna make this perfect for you," he murmured, smoothing his hands over Nick's chest before lubing up his palms and stroking his own cock a few times. His head tipped back, and Nick watched, already half hard again.

Tyson went slow at first, but Nick opened his thighs as far as he could and tilted upwards, thrusting up to meet him. Tyson moaned and buried his head in Nick's neck, licking and sucking at the skin as he quickened the pace. Nick flattened the palm of one hand against Tyson's back, the other in his hair, and moaned, "Oh fucking – fuck, fuck – _Tyson_, fuck fuck –"

Tyson groaned and exhaled, "Fuck." He thrust in harder, faster, and Nick angled up, and he could feel Tyson getting closer and closer to _just the right place_ – and as he hit it, he wrapped one hand around Nick's cock.

Nick saw stars on his eyelids, heard his own voice give a loud, long moan that ended on a "_Ty_", and felt Tyson shudder hard and go still.

His stomach was sticky, and he felt the warm weight of Tyson's come in his ass. His entire body relaxed, stretched out as Tyson pulled out carefully and flopped onto the pillow beside him. "Let's do that again some time," Tyson breathed.

Nick, in a state of absolute bliss, just nodded his agreement.

When he woke up the next morning, Tyson was propped up on his elbow gazing down at him. Nick rubbed an eye, feeling fuzzed up so that none of the things he thought about saying – mostly involving the words "Morning" or "Hey you", so nothing earth-shattering – actually made it _to_ his mouth, let alone out of it.

Tyson smiled down at him, and he said, "You're worth a billion notches on some bedpost. No wait – more than a billion. You're worth _six_ billion – you're worth _more_ than six billion notches on a bedpost."

"That's everyone in the world," Nick mumbled, sleepy.

"Yeah, it is," Tyson confirmed. Nick rolled closer, curling inwards until enough of his body had made contact with Tyson's, and fell asleep again.

Later that afternoon, when Tyson had gone home to pick up a change of clothes, Nick took his phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a minute. He ran the pad of his thumb over the edge of it, back and forth, back and forth, and then finally selected his phone book, scrolled to Mike's name, and hit 'call'. "Hi," he said quickly, when Mike picked up, "it's Nick."

"Nick?" Mike sounded surprised. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just – wanted to talk to you."

"Okay." Mike seemed to be evaluating Nick's pause. "What about?"

"Remember that thing you said, about when you met Chris? How you just knew it was perfect, first sight and all, that you were in love with him but it was – it was _different_ to what we had, it was – that it was all just so …" He trailed off. The words had deserted him.

"I know what you mean." Nick could almost _hear_ Mike nodding. He'd forgotten the way Mike's movements almost made sound over the phone. He couldn't help breaking out into a grin.

"Well, uh. Now I know what you meant." He blushed, and ducked his head even though no one was there to see it.

Mike whooped. "That's _awesome_, oh dude – I knew it'd happen for you, I just – oh man. That's _awesome_," he repeated. His grin sounded off the charts, a full-on beam.

Nick hugged himself. "Yeah, yeah it pretty much is. So hey, I can't talk for long, but maybe we'll see you two around some time."

"That'd be so great, we'd love that."

Nick felt a little like dancing, or hugging the phone, but he did neither. He just made lunch, singing "Out of me, into you yeah, you can hide, it's just a one-way street." Tyson rang the doorbell just as he was playing an air guitar solo with the aid of a fork.

He got home early as usual on Tuesday, and Tyson arrived fifteen minutes later bearing a DVD he said he'd bring over and a quivering air of excitement.

"So hey," he said as Nick was making the coffee, leaning against the counter, "remember I had that shoot in France in the middle of the semester?"

"Yeah?" Nick reached into the cupboard for a fresh jar, as he had just discovered there were only dregs in the bottom of the current one. Tyson didn't speak again until he had located the jar, set it next to the kettle and turned back to face him.

"It got rescheduled, and now it's a week after you finish and I thought, maybe you'd like to come with me."

Nick started to gape, but Tyson just kept on talking.

"I know you've wanted to do the wine tour thing forever, and I got us first class tickets so what do you say, do you want to come?"

Nick tried to make his jaw work, but it was still too busy dropping to the floor.

"We could hire a car or something, drive to Bordeaux?" Tyson said into the silence. "The shoot'll only be a couple days, just this commercial, then we'd be free for a week or two. Are … you going to say anything or what?" he finished, looking anxious.

Nick launched himself at Tyson, landing with his legs wrapped around his waist and his arms around his shoulders. Tyson steadied himself against the counter as Nick crushed their mouths together, kissing him hard, greedily.

"I'll um," Tyson stuttered as they broke for breath, "I'll take that as a yes, then."

"Take it as a _fuck yes_," Nick beamed. "Have I _mentioned_ that I love you?"

Tyson stopped, leaning back to look at him, and blinked a few times. "Um. Actually, no."

"Oh." Nick really had to put his legs back down on the floor, so he stood, breaking much of the physical contact. He stayed at that distance, far enough away to focus, and he looked at Tyson and said, "I love you, Ty."

Tyson looked right back at him and breathed, "I love you too, Nick."

When Nick was drifting to sleep that night, Tyson breathing across his shoulders, one arm flung over Nick's waist as they spooned, Nick could have sworn for a second that he heard a very faint voice saying "Checkmate" triumphantly. But his dreams were already pulling him down, so his last thought before he fell asleep was that he must have imagined it.

  


**[Epilogue — Three Years Later]**

It was two weeks before the wedding and Nick woke up with the weight of Tyson's leg and arm flung across him.

He woke slowly, the feeling of not being alone in the bed settling in piece by piece. He looked over and saw Tyson lying face down on the pillow, drooling slightly. That still looked cute on him, Nick mused, glancing at the clock and reluctantly sitting up. Tyson's eyes opened a little and he tried to smile, his muscles still too sleep-relaxed to quite make it. "Hey," he mumbled, wiping his mouth on his wrist and blinking slowly.

Nick leaned down and kissed him, morning breath be damned. "Hey. What time did you get in last night?"

"Late. Had to wait for my bags at the airport. You getting up?"

"Yeah, I should." He didn't move. There was skin on his, and it felt good.

Tyson pulled him down for another kiss and rolled them, Nick on top. "You got time?" he murmured, arching up.

"Shit, I don't know, maybe. If we're quick." Nick began fumbling on the bedside table.

"I haven't seen you for six fucking weeks," Tyson murmured, sounding a lot more awake and grinding slowly against Nick. "We'll be quick."

Nick nudged his jaw until Tyson turned his head aside and Nick had a clear shot at his neck. He licked up it, kissing and biting his way back down. Tyson groaned and arched up against him again. "Fuck," Nick exhaled, "I have missed you so much."

"There'll be time for all that teasing shit later," Tyson said, his voice straining. He bent one knee, spread his thighs apart and purred, "Fuck me _now_."

Nick groaned and slathered his hands up with lube. Tyson took it from him and quickly got himself ready while Nick slicked up his cock and lined up. He leaned his forehead against Tyson's and they both watched as Nick slid slowly inside.

Then Tyson arched his neck back and relaxed his whole body. "Oh yeah," he breathed, shifting and tilting his hips up as Nick started building a rhythm, "_fuck_ yeah."

Nick leaned down and whispered, "Good for what ails ya?" Tyson had said that a few weeks ago, that he was getting restless and a little Nick's-cock-action would be good for what ailed him.

Tyson laughed. "You been waiting all this time to say that?" he asked, voice stuttering over every third word. Nick dipped his head to kiss up Tyson's neck again.

"Yeah," he murmured when he got to his earlobe. He took it between his teeth and tugged gently. "Been waiting for lots of things."

Tyson curved up to meet his body. Nick's brain almost shorted out. "Me too," Tyson moaned, and Nick's orgasm hit with no warning. He shuddered and shook, the hand that had been jerking Tyson's cock squeezing involuntarily. "Fuck," Tyson groaned, "_fuck_," and he came four seconds later with one last curving arch.

Nick lay on his chest, panting, for a minute. "I really have to get up now," he said.

Tyson ran fingertips through Nick's hair. "I know."

Nick didn't move. "You should go back to sleep, I bet you could do with it."

"Probably. I gotta see my agent this afternoon, he said he'd heard back from those screen tests."

"Well, good." Nick kissed him on the nose and finally pulled out. "I'd better," he gestured towards the bedroom door.

"Yeah." Tyson was starting to sound sleepy again. "Have a good day, okay?"

Nick kissed him one more time, lingering a little, and said, "You too."

When he got to school, Toad had just parked his car, so they walked in together. "Robyn still sick?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, I really think we should go to a doctor or something, it's been weeks now." He looked worried. "She's sleeping fine, it's just, it's worse in the mornings I think."

"It's probably just a bug," Nick reasoned for the hundredth time. "Is she still okay for me to come over after school and clean?"

"Are you kidding? It'll be the highlight of her week. The apartment's a mess and her mom gets in tomorrow."

"Oh man. Two weeks of Mrs Watkins and the wedding planners." Nick clapped him on the back with one hand and opened the faculty room door with the other.

"Kill me," Toad sighed. "Kill me now."

"The descent of the in-laws?" Jeff asked, watching them approach. Toad nodded and dropped into the seat next to him. Nick leaned against the wall and sipped his coffee. "Well do I remember the pain and suffering, my friend." Jeff patted Toad on the shoulder. "The secret to surviving is this: Robyn won't marry you if you kill her mother. So don't. Compared to that, everything else is easy."

"Thanks. I'll bear that in mind." Toad closed his eyes. "I just hope Robyn's okay for the wedding, you know?"

Nick and Jeff exchanged a look over the top of Toad's head.

"So Nick," John broke the silence by bursting in and calling, "did Tyson get back yet?"

Nick felt the tips of his ears get a little hot and hid behind his coffee cup. "Uh yeah, he got in last night."

"How long's he going to be home this time?" Toad asked, visibly relieved to move on to another subject.

"A little while, I think." Nick was about to try and swerve them to another topic of conversation when Principal Linton walked in and the first bell almost simultaneously rang.

Nick still had a key to Robyn's apartment, but since he'd moved out (after Toad had moved in, and Tyson had got his place in the hills to be closer to the studios and asked Nick if he'd mind sharing it) he always knocked instead of just barging in. Robyn answered the door looking, Nick had to admit, rather radiant.

He stared at her for a second, and then she said, "Hey, you're here," and hugged him tightly, and he knew.

"Shall I get started right away, or do you want to eat first?" he asked, carefully, once his jacket was off.

"Um, why don't –" She stopped. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, finally, her voice smaller.

Nick took her hands and led her to the couch. "How long have you known?"

"I just did a test a couple hours ago. Where's Kevin?"

"He had some work to finish up, said he wouldn't be too long."

She nodded, eyes pinched for a second. "Okay."

"Hey." He squeezed her hands until she looked up at him. He couldn't help beaming. "Congratulations."

She looked close to tears. "Thanks. You won't tell anyone, will you? I mean, before I tell Kevin."

"Of course not. You okay? I mean, this is what you wanted, right? Kids and all?" He watched her carefully; she looked like she would start crying any second. She was still glowing, though.

"Yeah, yeah it is, I just – I guess I'm in shock. I mean … what's Mom going to say? Right before the wedding, and it's _now_ I get pregnant?"

"Hey, she'll just be glad you _are_ getting married," he grinned. She laughed, a sudden breaking of clouds on her face. Three tears slipped out, but she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"Sorry," she sniffed as he handed her a tissue. "It's just – I'm pregnant, Nick." She said it like she was only just realising. Then she sat up straighter, grabbed his hands again, and said, "I'm _pregnant_. Nick, I'm going to be a _mom_."

Nick hugged her, forcing himself not to squeeze too tightly. "I'm so happy for you, Rob," he beamed, almost splitting in two from it. "Toad's going to be so stoked, he's worried sick about you. Thinks you've got some horrible bug but dude, you're having a _baby_."

"I know. I know." Robyn was shaking a little, and broken pieces of laughter escaped her as she talked. "There's so much to _do_, I mean – we have to turn your room into a nursery, and I should go to the doctor on Monday, and – do you think Kevin could get the day off? I'll need him there with me, and – and shit, I don't know what to do right now."

"Hey," Nick stood up suddenly, pulling her with him. "You need to go _rest_, is what you need to do right now. Come on. Bed." He marched her into the bedroom and turned down the covers. "I'll come back and clean in the morning, Toad'll be home any minute. You two should be alone for this."

The front door opened.

"That's my cue." Nick hugged her quickly again. "I'll send him in here. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, I – Kevin. That's all."

"One Kevin, coming right up." He grinned at her, and went to find Toad. "Your future wife wants you," he told him, when he found him brewing coffee in the kitchen. "She's in your room. I'm uh, gonna come back tomorrow to clean." He clapped him on the shoulder and briefly pulled him in for a quick squeeze of a hug. "Have a good night."

"O…kay?" Toad watched him leave the room, looking confused.

Nick whistled in the car on his way home, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He pulled into the lot, saw that Tyson's car was there, and let himself in. "Ty? You home?"

The first thing he noticed was the dim lighting. The second thing he noticed were the candles; there were a couple in the hall, and the living room door was open and he could see candles spread out over the shelves, on the windowsill, clustered in the centre of the table. There were take-out boxes and chopsticks out near them, and a bottle of red wine was open, two filled glasses flanking it.

Nick walked in slowly, taking it all in, and realised that soft music was playing. Tyson was standing near the couch, wearing a shirt that made his eyes look a darker blue. It was Nick's favourite of Tyson's, and Tyson knew it. "What – what's going on?" Nick asked, as Tyson took the few steps that closed the gap between their bodies.

"I got your favourite everything," Tyson smiled at him, voice faintly husky. He slid his hands onto Nick's hips.

Nick put his arms around Tyson's neck, one hand going into his hair. "Any special reason?" he asked, feeling like warm light was filling him up, starting with his toes.

"I've got something to tell you," Tyson smiled down at him, kissing first one corner of his mouth and then the other, "and it's kind of a surprise."

"Oh?" Tyson's hands were sliding under his shirt, and Nick shivered deliciously. He'd missed the contact lately.

"I think you'd better sit down," Tyson murmured, nuzzling along the curve of Nick's ear with his nose. Nick shivered again.

"Now you're starting to sound ominous," he breathed, getting dizzyingly hard as Tyson kissed lightly at the skin just behind his ear.

"It's a good thing," Tyson assured him, "but you'd still better sit down for it."

"Alright." It was difficult to speak by this point. Tyson's hands were running over his back, and Tyson's mouth was doing very, _very_ good things to his neck.

Tyson smiled against his skin and whispered, "This is the part where you sit down."

"I can't um, I can't move," Nick whispered back.

Tyson moved one hand around from Nick's back and brushed it lightly against his crotch. Nick hissed, and Tyson groaned. "Shit. Okay, I'll stop, because I gotta tell you this thing _now_ otherwise I'll blurt it out half way through the sex."

He stepped away, and Nick wrestled down the urge to whimper in protest. "Okay," he said, trying to keep his voice even but hearing it crack. Tyson pulled him down onto the couch and sat facing him, taking his hands. Nick felt a strong sense of déjà vu.

"I saw my agent today," Tyson started, "and I have a part in a movie that's shooting this summer. I'll have to go to England for the location stuff, and that won't be until right around the time school starts again, so I'll be away for a few weeks."

"Oh." Nick tried not to look crestfallen or feel too disappointed. He should be used to Tyson going away for weeks at a time to make a movie; and besides, he'd just spent over a month in Australia, England was much closer.

"That's not the surprise, though," Tyson continued, watching his face. "Now this part you can't tell, not until they cast Prince John, they're not announcing it until then."

"Okay, yeah, I won't. Prince John, is it – a Robin Hood movie or something?"

"Yeah. I got the Sheriff of Nottingham part, they said they liked the British accent I did in that movie last year. It's uh," Tyson seemed like he was trying to burn a hole in Nick's skull just by staring hard enough at him, "it's Muppet Robin Hood."

Nick swallowed. "Muppet," he repeated, slowly, "Robin Hood?"

Tyson nodded.

"With – as in, _The_ Muppets? As in, Kermit and Fozzie and Miss Piggy?"

Tyson nodded.

Nick's voice was getting quieter and quieter. "The Electric Mayhem?"

Tyson nodded.

"Dr Teeth?" It came out almost a squeak.

Tyson nodded.

"And you … got … a part in a Muppet movie?" he tried, his entire body absolutely still.

Tyson nodded. "Are you okay?" he asked, putting his hands on Nick's knees as though it would steady him. "You've gone pale."

"I um, I might pass out," Nick admitted.

"Breathe," Tyson informed him. "Both in _and_ out. But not at the same time," he added. "First in, then out. Repeat as necessary." He leaned closer and whispered, "Repeating is necessary."

Nick launched himself suddenly at him. "Don't _do_ that." He tried not to yell it, since Tyson's ear was right there and he didn't want to deafen him, but it was proving hard to keep the volume down.

"Do what?" Tyson, startled, was bracing himself against the arm of the couch.

"Don't just, be this amazing fucking boyfriend and get me all my favourite shit and tell me you're in a _Muppet movie_ and then be all cute. For fuck's sake, there's only so much I can _take_."

Tyson stared up at him, from where he was pinned to the cushions. Nick didn't know what to do first, hump him or kiss him to death or grab him or jump up off him so he could yell a little, because he felt like doing all of those things. So he ended up with a vague torso movement and what sounded almost like a yip. "Are … you okay, Nick?" Tyson asked him.

Jump off and yell, Nick decided. He sprang up and over to the other side of the room and shouted, "My boyfriend's in a fucking _Muppet movie_!" to the apartment at large. The only reply he got was a slight flicker from some of the candles and Tyson breaking out into a huge grin. Nick ran back over to the couch and grabbed Tyson's hand. "Forget about the fucking dinner, Ty, you are getting _laid_."

"Did I say a word about the dinner?" He held up the hand he was not being dragged towards the bedroom by.

Nick didn't stop. "I guess not. But you're still getting laid."

Tyson laughed, and pulled him closer when they got through the door. He ground against Nick's ass and murmured into his neck, "Have I ever told you you make no sense sometimes?"

"Yes, now do you want to fuck me or not?" Nick ground back against him, and he felt Tyson's body curve.

"Fuck," he breathed, "I should get cast in Muppet movies more often."

"Tattoo," Nick reminded him, and Tyson groaned. "I meant – oh never mind."

Tyson undressed him in record time – really, the words 'ripped his clothes off' might not be inaccurate, he could have sworn he heard a tear – and Nick unbuttoned Tyson's shirt with hands shaking from adrenaline. He kissed down Tyson's chest until he was kneeling in front of him and taking the zip on his pants down very, very slowly. Tyson watched him, breathing hard, as Nick closed his mouth over the head of Tyson's cock and gave a sharp suck. Tyson hissed his breath in and tangled his fingers in Nick's hair as Nick sank his mouth down a little further, inch by inch, flicking his tongue out and getting Tyson's cock as wet as he could. He pulled off after a minute. Tyson's eyes were half lidded and his chest was heaving. It was one of Nick's favourite sights, Tyson from waist-height.

He lay down on his back and Tyson dealt with the lube, and then Tyson was replacing his fingers with his cock and Nick groaned loudly, angling up to meet him.

Tyson slid in slowly and leaned their foreheads and noses together. "I've missed you," he breathed as he pulled almost entirely out again and then pushed back in, harder and faster and _deeper_ this time. Nick moaned.

"I've missed you too," he panted, gripping the pillow under one hand and the sheets under another. Tyson thrust in exactly the way he knew Nick liked it, hard and deep but not too fast, and Nick arched and squirmed while Tyson jerked him off in the same rhythm. He squeezed and pulled and pressed in all the right places and _just_ the right ways, until Nick felt as though pieces of him were crumbling away and falling off. "Fuck, Ty," he breathed, broken exhalations. "_Fuck_."

Tyson kissed him, hungry and sudden and _hard_. Nick groaned into him and kissed back desperately, shaking. "Fucking hell, Nick," Tyson mumbled into his mouth. Nick groaned again.

Tyson came half a minute later with a long moan, and stilled. Nick squirmed harder and whimpered, "Fuck, _please_," and Tyson gave another shudder.

"Nick," he groaned softly, planting an open-mouthed kiss onto Nick's clavicle. He pulled out, ignoring Nick's small sound of protest, and wriggled down Nick's body with as much skin contact as possible. He contemplated Nick's cock for a minute, murmured, "Fuck I love doing this," and wrapped his mouth and one hand around it.

Nick threw his head back against the pillows. Tyson sucked fucking exquisitely, his free hand trailing by the fingertips over Nick's skin, and Nick felt heat pooling at the base of his spine. "Ty, _fuck_," he cried out as his orgasm hit, sending shockwaves through his body. He gave one last twitch as Tyson released his cock with a wet sound.

Tyson crawled up his body again and settled against his shoulder. He kissed every inch of skin he could reach without moving his neck much, as Nick got his breath back.

"Welcome home," he said at last, running his fingers through Tyson's hair. Tyson chuckled and the vibrations went through Nick's arm.

It was a week before Tyson said they'd finally cast Prince John and he could tell people about the movie. During that week, Nick had congratulated Robyn and Toad along with everybody else, talked a lot to Robyn's mom when she was driving the happy couple crazy with the wedding plans, and finished up the semester at school. Spring break began that Friday, and by the end of the day everybody was just playing hangman, passing notes and giggling conspiratorially. And that was just the teachers.

"Spring makes us all crazy," John said, rather sagely, as they were gathered in the faculty room picking their paperwork up.

"Either that, or we can't wait for vacation to start," Nick pointed out.

"Well, yeah, that too." John shrugged.

Kim had invited Nick, Tyson, Robyn and Toad over for dinner that night, as a triple celebration of spring break, the wedding and the baby. Nick went home after school to change and pick up Tyson, who was waiting and almost pounced on him when he walked in the door.

"Nick, Nick, they cast Prince John, there was a press release, it should hit the trades tomorrow."

Nick gripped Tyson's arms. "Does that mean I can tell people now?"

"Yes, yes it does," Tyson grinned at him, and Nick jumped a foot off the ground. "Man, if I didn't want to do this movie _anyway_ I'd totally do it just for your reactions." He was still grinning. Nick punched him in the arm.

"Shut up, I'm excited. Do you know who's what yet? I mean, the Muppets?"

Tyson sidled over to the table and picked up a sheaf of papers. "I got the script today. Want to help me learn my lines?"

Nick hoped his eyes weren't too round, because it felt like they were kind of wide. "_Fuck_ yeah!" he exclaimed, surging forwards. "Can I see?"

"Be my guest." Tyson handed the script over, and Nick just held it in his hands for a minute. It had _Muppet Robin Hood_ on the front. "Just know that if a single line of that gets out, I get fired."

"Dude, your secret's safe with me." He was just running his hands over and over it.

Tyson slung his arms over Nick's hips and pulled him close. "I know," he smiled into his hair. Nick nuzzled him absently. "Are you gonna look, or do you need a minute alone with it?"

"Shut up," Nick elbowed him, but he cracked the script open reverently. He turned the pages, eyes skating over the words, catching only a few of them. "Dude, Kermit's Robin – of course, yeah, and – _hah_, Fozzie's Friar Tuck!" Nick almost dropped the script when he got to page five. "_Maid Piggy_," he gasped between laughs. "Oh man, this is so awesome."

"The Electric Mayhem are the Merry Men," Tyson told him. When Nick looked up, he saw Tyson's eyes shining. "You should see your face, man." His voice was soft.

"Dude. New _Muppet_ movie. And _you're in it_." Nick closed the script and hugged it to his chest.

"We'd better get going, we'll be late for Kim's," Tyson reminded him, glancing at his watch.

Nick nodded, reluctant to put the script down. Tyson took it out of his hands and laid it on the table. "Yeah, hey and – we should take something. Wine, and some juice for Robyn."

"Already bought it," Tyson jerked a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Her favourite's kiwi-strawberry smoothie, right?"

"Have I ever told you," Nick pulled him in and nudged their noses together, "you're the best boyfriend ever?"

"You might have brought that up a couple times," Tyson nodded, a smile spreading. "But I never get tired of hearing it."

Nick kissed him, a languid smile in motion, and went to grab a nicer shirt to wear.

When they arrived at Kim's, Brittany answered the door and gestured them inside. "The others just got here, we're watching Top Model. Come in."

Nick held up the wine and the smoothie. "I am kitchen-bound, I'll see you in there."

Kim was checking on something in the oven when Nick went in search of the wine rack. "Hey Nick, how's it going?"

"It's good, and you?" Nick leaned over to kiss her cheek, and she stirred the saucepan on the stove.

"Pretty okay. I am _so glad_ it's spring break, my classes were insane." She straightened up and took the smoothie to put in the fridge. "Ty said he'd have news. Is it the good kind?"

"The very good kind," Nick nodded.

"Well come on then," Kim led him into the living room, where she perched on the arm of Brittany's chair, Robyn and Toad on the couch and Tyson on the floor with his back to it. He patted the space next to him, and Nick settled in it. "So boys," Kim continued, looking at Tyson, "what's the big news?"

Tyson looked at Nick and grinned. "Go on, you know you want to say it."

"Can I?" Nick looked at him eagerly. Tyson nodded, so Nick took a deep breath and said, "My boyfriend's in the new Muppet movie."

Robyn and Kim stared. Toad and Brittany both laughed. "Hey, that's awesome, man," Toad leaned over to clap Tyson on what he could reach of his shoulder.

"Wow, that's – _Ty_, you've really made it. You've really fucking _made it_," Kim breathed. She made her way across the room to hug him, and he squeezed her happily.

"Yep, I really have." She stood up again and went back to Brittany, and Tyson dropped his arm over Nick's shoulders. "The best part is how very, very laid I am getting," he added. Nick hit him in the side.

"Ass, that's between us and our walls."

Robyn turned to Toad and said, "I am so glad he moved out." Toad snorted.

"I love you too, Rob," Nick reached up to pet her knee. She laughed. "How are you doing now, anyway? With your mom and the baby and all?"

"Oh, fine. We're all managing not to kill each other. Dad gets here on Wednesday, everyone else on Friday, everything's going pretty smoothly. I feel like ass half the time, but the doctor says I'm healthy and, as far as they can tell, so's the baby." She and Toad were both sitting curled around her stomach, as if they had arranged their bodies to draw attention to it. Toad was almost glowing as much as Robyn.

"Have you thought about names yet?" Brittany asked. Kim was slowly but surely sliding into her lap.

Robyn laughed. "I have to get through this wedding first, it's all I can think about right now."

"You know, stress isn't good if you're pregnant," Nick pointed out. "Maybe you should just leave it to your mom."

Robyn rolled her eyes. "That's what I have to survive."

Toad stayed over at Nick and Tyson's place the night before the wedding. They took him out for a few drinks; Tuesday had been the night of all of Toad's friends going club-to-club, taking in a lap dance or five along the way, so this was just a last-night-of-freedom drink with a select few.

"Besides," Toad pointed out when John got there and expressed disappointment over the lack of more lap dancers attending the evening, "if I get wasted or handcuffed to something tonight, Rob will kill me."

"Pregnant women are very hormonal," Tyson agreed. "You don't want to cross them."

"I don't want to cross Rob when she's _not_ pregnant, let alone now," Toad admitted.

Jeff snorted. "We know who wears the pants in _that_ relationship."

"Hey, hey, _I_ wear the pants, shut the fuck up," Toad told them. He was the only one not laughing. "I just treat her right and respect her happiness and shit."

Nick slung an arm over his shoulders. "You are compounding your sissy-man status with every word," he informed him sagely, handing him the first beer of the night.

"Says the fag," Toad pointed out. Nick shrugged.

"I may be more of a girl than any of you, but you're still a sissy-man." He poked Toad in the shoulder.

"Shut the fuck up," Toad grumbled, taking a swig from his bottle. "We got some good clubs to go to? No gay bars," he added, pointing accusingly at Tyson, who arranged his features into an innocent expression, "and _no strip joints_," he turned his pointy accusation on John, who wasn't nearly as good at the innocent expression as Tyson was.

"Thanks," Nick heard Jeff mutter to Toad on their way out of the bar, "my wife would've killed me if I'd been to another strip club and not told her I was going."

"Wives," Toad sighed. "Always so uptight about the strippers."

Saturday dawned beautiful and breezy. Toad took his shower first and Nick made breakfast, leaving it out while he grabbed his own shower. He'd made muffins, two batches so that Toad could give Robyn the honey ones for later, and came back into the kitchen to find both Toad and Tyson munching away at them without so much as a napkin to catch the crumbs.

Nick let it slide, because life was easier without ridicule so early in the morning. "How're you feeling?" he asked Toad.

"Good. Alright. Maybe a little terrified."

"Just don't forget to say I do," Tyson reminded him.

Toad sat in the back of the car on the way to the church. After a few minutes' silence, while Nick drove and the car filled with more and more nervous tension, Tyson cleared his throat.

"Can we go over those lines again?" he asked, quiet.

"Okay." Nick glanced at Toad in the rear view mirror, but he was staring out of the window and probably hadn't heard them. "These people need to be kept in line. They need discipline. They need to be _taxed_."

Tyson's English accent was pretty good. "We're certainly taxing them, your Majesty."

"Excellent, Nottingham." Nick watched the road.

Tyson paused. "My name is Jim, your Majesty."

"Excellent, Jim." Nick thought back, going over the script in his head. "I think there's only one 'your Majesty' in those lines."

"Shit, you're right." Tyson slumped in his seat.

"But the rest of it was good," Nick added. "Your accent's getting better, and you switched it faster than before."

"Yeah? Thanks."

"We're here," Toad said from the back seat. It came out almost a croak, and he spent the next couple of minutes clearing his throat as Nick found somewhere to park.

They got out of the car. "Showtime," Nick said, patting Toad on the back. "You okay, man?"

"I can do this, right?" Toad looked at him, very slightly pleading. Nick patted him again. "Right," Toad continued, before Nick could speak. "Yes, yes I can. Right. Is my buttonhole okay? And my tie?"

Nick put his hands on Toad's shoulders. "You look great. Now go get married."

Nick watched Toad clench and unclench his hands as they waited in the church. "She'll show up, won't she? She has to show up," he muttered.

"She'll show, now quit fidgeting. You're making me dizzy."

A few seconds later, the organ kicked up and Toad twisted around. "Shit, here she comes," he muttered, getting to his feet. Nick stood beside him, watching his best friend walk down the aisle. She had never looked so beautiful.

He gave her a smile before he sat down, and turned around to make eye contact with Tyson. He noticed that Tyson's eyes looked a little like they were glistening, and he made a mental note to tease him later.

By the end of the ceremony, he had no stones to throw on that score whatsoever. He started getting choked up around the _to have and to hold_ part, just about made it through the "I do"s, and got teary when Robyn turned to smile at him after the _man and wife_ bit. He gave her a watery smile back, and she looked like she might burst into tears right then.

He waited until they had all got out of the church before he found her and grabbed her into a hug, swinging her a little. She laughed in his ear and clung to his neck. "How's it feel to be Mrs Toad?" he asked her, making her giggle.

"You'll call him Kevin in your speech, right?" She sniffed.

"Damn, I'll have to rewrite all the amphibian jokes." He laughed when she punched his arm. "Relax, of course I will."

The reception was held in a hotel's function and ballroom, and Nick did his best man duty, walking around and saying hi to everyone. Kim and Brittany had changed out of their bridesmaid dresses and were making sure everybody had drinks, when Robyn's brother wasn't trying to get them alone in a corner to talk to them about threesomes. Nick went looking for Tyson, so he could save them, but he hadn't even found him when he saw the brother in question go past with a thunderous look on his face. From the look on Brittany's, she had just told him where he could stick his propositions. Nick threw her a thumbs-up and headed out into the crowd to see if he could find Tyson anyway.

After fifteen minutes' searching – hampered a little by various members of Toad's family waylaying him to talk about the happy couple and did you hear she's pregnant they didn't get married a moment too soon – he concluded that Tyson was not in the room. He checked the gardens, but no luck, so he looked around the ballroom one more time before venturing further.

He eventually found Tyson in a first-floor bathroom, practicing lunges. "You think she loves _you_? A _frog_?"

"You won't get away with this, Nottingham," Nick said, softly, from the doorway.

Tyson looked up and lunged again. "My _name_," he grunted, "is _Jim_." He stopped, and sagged against the wall. "I can't get it right, Nick, I just – I just can't."

"Hey." Nick beckoned him over, and put an arm around him. "You don't have to yet."

"I guess," Tyson exhaled.

"Come on. It's almost time for the speeches, I gotta go have my big moment."

"I'll be down in a minute." Tyson gave him a tiny smile, and Nick reached up to kiss it.

When he got back, almost everybody was sitting at the tables in the function room. He took his place at the top table, the seat next to him empty. Tyson slid into it moments before Mr Watkins knocked his fork against his glass for silence.

Nick stood up when his speech was announced. He shuffled the cards in his hands and cleared his throat before beginning, "I have known Robyn since I was a kid. We grew up together, we went to college together, we moved out here together. We got jobs at the same school, she even let me live in her apartment when I had nowhere else to go. There is nobody like Robyn. I love her like a sister, like a twin. And I've never seen her look so happy as she does today."

He paused as a murmur went around the room, and Robyn glowed at him. He tried not to tear up.

"A few years ago, a new teacher started at our school, and pretty much immediately Rob told me I had to go be friends with him and find out if he had a girlfriend." There was a small ripple of laughter, and Nick let it die down before continuing. "I said no way, she should just go over and find out for herself." A bigger ripple, and Nick waited before carrying on. "Of course, she did, and it turned out he was single, so they started dating. It was Kevin," he added, "just so we're clear."

Another ripple. Other than that, the room was quiet. Nick wasn't looking around at everyone, though, just at Robyn.

"They've had their ups and downs, like everyone else. But we all had to pretty much agree that Kevin and Robyn's ups were more up than most people's get to be. Kevin told me he was planning to say he loved her, and he did it the perfect way. When he told me he was going to propose on Christmas morning but he didn't know if he should do it at lunch or before, I told him to do it in the morning. So he left a ring box wrapped under the tree." Finally, he looked up. "She called me that day and she was crying so much with joy I couldn't hear a word she said. But I knew she'd said yes." He looked back at her, and she was crying now, beaming up at him. "I love her like a sister," he repeated, "and like any brother, I want only the best for her. And in Kevin, she's got it." He looked around the room again and raised his glass. "To Robyn and Kevin. To their happiness."

The murmur ran the course of the room, and Nick sat down again. Tyson leaned in and whispered, "I'm proud of you, man. That was beautiful."

"I've been waiting since we were twelve to say it," Nick whispered back.

Robyn caught him in a hug as everybody was getting up from the tables. "I love you," she whispered.

"Happy wedding day," he beamed into her hair. "Just don't ask me to make any more speeches, okay?"

She laughed, the sound of pure joy. "I won't. Godfathers don't make speeches."

He stared at her. "Really? Seriously?"

"Oh come on, like anybody else could be," she rolled her eyes, curling one hand over his arm. "You're my best friend."

He squeezed her hand and led her over to where Toad was waiting. He bowed slightly and said, "May I have this dance?"

"You may." She dropped Nick's arm, took Toad's, and he swept her onto the floor.

Tyson sidled up. "May I have the next one?" he asked. Their eyes followed Robyn and Toad.

"Of course."

When the dance floor started filling up, Tyson took Nick's hand and led him out onto it. The music was slow, and Tyson pulled him close.

They swayed, for a minute. The muscles in Tyson's back tensed as they moved together, Nick's palms feeling it through cloth. "Hey," he murmured, "stop thinking about it."

"Sorry," Tyson muttered. "It's just that I –"

Nick kissed him, swallowing the rest of Tyson's sentence. Tyson relaxed against him, moving to the music and running a hand through Nick's hair, his other hand resting at the base of Nick's spine. Nick hummed into his mouth, content. "Forget about it," he whispered.

"Forget about what?" Tyson curved his mouth up in a smile, and kissed him again.

**[THE END]**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [count your eyelashes while you sleep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/165047) by [fizzyblogic (phizzle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic)




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